Fireflies
by BButtercup
Summary: Completed Hunters passing too close to the Golden Wood attract unwanted attention while ensnaring something completely unintended. Rumil, Haldir, Orophin
1. The Cry of the Trees

Title: Fireflies

Author: Buttercup

Rating:  R

Warnings:  Violence, mature themes, non-consensual elements.  

Disclaimer:  Oh, if wishes were rainbows… but they're not mine, never will be.  

Summary: Hunters passing too close to the Golden Wood attract unwanted attention while ensnaring something completely unintended.  (Haldir, Orophin, Rúmil, Celeborn, and Galadriel)

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Chapter 1 - The Cry of the Trees 

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The elf ran blindly toward home, trusting his instincts and centuries of exploration of the Golden Wood to get him there.  He allowed himself to rest only briefly, to drink only when a stream crossed his path, and to eat only when the berries and fruits of the surrounding woodland brushed against his fingertips.  

During his dash for the city, he refused to detour a step from the path.  It was a six-day walk back to Caras Galadhon; he was determined to make it in three, all the while fearing it would still be days too late.  

His wounds continued to bleed, the wrappings around his chest and arms soaked with blood and sweat.  He did not seem to notice, or if he did, he did not seem to care.  His mind screamed to his exhausted body to carry on, to get help.  But the body began to rebel, needing more rest then the mind allowed, and the slow but steady blood loss was beginning to take its toll.  He began to stumble more often, collapsing to the ground without warning, and his anguished cries of desperation echoed sorrowfully through the Wood.  

The trees cried with him, singing softly to the elf, encouraging him to continue, urging him forward.  They leaned away from the path, trying to clear the way so as not to hinder him, and amongst themselves, they whispered of his pain, of his fear.  Their voices lifted to the winds, a lament for the wounded elf that drifted skyward, picking up more voices as it passed, growing in pitch and volume to become a swelling symphony of desperate song.

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~* To Be Continued *~

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	2. Ilúvatar’s Song

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Chapter 2 - Ilúvatar's Song

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The changing of the seasons was upon them.  Arda was moving the life in her care from verdant growth to quiet respite.  The days were growing short and the air cool as Anor bowed to Ithil, allowing the lengthening nights to grow brighter.  

Rúmil tipped his head back and turned his face up to the setting sun, breathing deeply of the crisp, clean air.  Middle-earth was preparing for a long deserved rest, but before waning, the blanket covering her would burst into glowing, glorious color, a feast for the eyes and senses as the golden yellows and reds of the earth reached upward to embrace the waking pinks and violets of twilight.  

He loved this time of year, and he loved this part of the Wood.  It was quiet and peaceful, generally free of the orcs, wargs, and other fell beasts that plagued the northern fences.  There were many in the guard who thought this patrol tedious, but Rúmil preferred the distance from the constant chaos of the city and the tense watchfulness of the more active borders.  

The warrior began to shift restlessly as his thoughts returned to those who had disturbed his peace.  He and his companion had only been on the border for three days before the Edain had appeared.  Initially, the group had been much larger but then divided by half when some of their number continued south with a small herd of horses.  

The remaining Edain had stayed, and they were now camped on the opposite side of a wide meadow past the hills.  Six men in all, the Faradrim worked in teams of two, using small wagons to haul their gear and supplies.  They were rough looking men, hardened by sun, wind, and their chosen profession.  

Skirting the very edge of the border, they set their snares and traps, and while they made no significant incursions into the Wood or carried no real weapons, the small patrol still watched them closely.  

Elves considered this method of hunting distasteful, without honor.  The traps were cruel, causing unnecessary pain and suffering.  However, it was the senseless waste that the elves found most disturbing.  Creatures considered of little or no value, wanted for neither their meat nor pelts, were simply tossed aside, their deaths serving no purpose.  To the guardians watching them, it seemed that these Edain felt no connection with Arda at all.  

For the Firstborn, all life was intertwined, weaving and pulsing together to form the Song of Ilúvatar.  However, these men seemed to hear it not, choosing to ignore its rich harmonies.  They listened to only their very small part of the Song, hardening their hearts to the rest.  They were completely cut off from the life that surrounded them.  

Rúmil and Anendel followed the men whenever they ventured over the border on their daily treks, springing traps and slipping snares set just minutes earlier or freeing and tending to those creatures that had been caught but not yet discovered.  

They would practice their skills of stealth, laying or standing but a few yards away, close enough to reach out and touch, or move through the trees above, never seen nor heard.  

After a week, they decided to break up the monotony of their little mini-campaigns by leaving small gifts within or near the traps, subtle messages to the Faradrim that it was time move on.  

However, the men persisted, especially their leader, who seemed particularly determined.  This man troubled Rúmil; he seemed without remorse or pity.  More than once, he observed the feredir callously ending the life of an unwanted animal instead of simply setting it free.  

These men were not considered a threat to the Golden Wood itself, but their insistence on harrying the local wildlife was growing tiresome.  Rúmil was at the point where he felt a more direct approach necessary and that perhaps staring down the shaft of an Elven arrow would be more persuasive.  

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~* To Be Continued *~

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Edain = Men

Faradrim – Hunters

Feredir - Hunter  
Ilúvatar = God 

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	3. Elven Mischief

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Chapter 3 - Elven Mischief

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Livid: that was the best way to describe his current mood.  

He was to meet up with his brother in a seven-day, but he and his small band had yet to meet but half the quota that he himself had set for this outing.  It was not that the quota was unreasonable, and it was not that the creatures they hunted were in short supply.  The sole cause, in his opinion, for their lack of success was the Elven mischief that had befallen them.  

His brother's voice echoed in his mind as he approached yet another empty snare -- empty because someone or some elf had sprung the trap before it could ensnare its intended quarry.  He kicked viciously at a nearby tree, knocking a large hunk of bark free to scrabble noisily to ground.  

_"Please, stay away from the Elven Wood.  Setting traps in or near their territory is not wise.  The elves here are not your average 'happy-go-lucky' wild elves but the much more dangerous 'shoot first and don't even bother to ask questions later' warrior elves.  You would be wise to continue on for another day's travel before you encamp."  _

He had snorted in response, and his brother, worried that he would ignore the warning, reached out and grabbed his arm, whipping him around to face him.  

_"Those woods are protected and you'll be lucky if you're able to walk away with just an arrow in your stubborn arse.  Heed my words -- the prize is not worth the risk."  _

However, those few words had only served to strengthen his resolve.  The creatures that he and his men trapped and snared for pelts were drawn to those woods and the presence of the elves within.  This one thing in itself was enough to cause him to defy his brother, and his dislike of elves in general made the adventure that much more inviting.  

He regarded his brother spitefully as he moved, much loved, amongst the men who traveled with him on his trips back and forth to Rohan.  Dear, sweet, kind Daris, it was enough to make him want to retch.  

They were complete opposites in both appearance and nature.  At first glance, the brothers looked very similar, but as one got closer, the differences between the two became clearer.  

Daris was the older of the two but many mistook him as the younger, his easy smile and gentle nature belying his years.  He was handsome, standing tall and straight, his bright, hazel eyes dancing with mirth and the joy of life; heads turned whenever he passed.  

Callin on the other hand had a tendency to walk with a skulking gate.  His hazel eyes most often were darkened to a lackluster brown, reflecting both his disdain and malice in almost everything around him, and while he could be charming when pressed, he was avoided by most.  

Daris had opted out of the family business, much to their father's distress, to deal in horses, uncomfortable with the bloody work of a furrier.  Callin thought him soft, and Daris thought him heartless.  

After their father's death, everything had come to Daris.  Others thought his brother generous when he, without hesitation, handed half of everything to Callin.  Callin just thought him weak.  He would not have done the same, but still, he did not hesitate to accept what was offered.  

Moreover, Callin easily conceded that Daris was the more responsible of them, taking care of the little details that he could not or would not be bothered with.  He was more than happy to relinquish those responsibilities.  

Now, sharing resources but carrying out their business separately, they came together, the bonds of kinship but loosely knit, when their seasonal tasks were completed.  

Thin, dry lips curled into an ugly sneer as his thoughts once again drifted to the Elves.  

'They think themselves above me, better than me.  Who are they to deny me my trade?' 

His father had expounded often to anyone who would listen on the vanity of the Elves.  Through his father, he learned that Elves referred to Men as the Secondborn, Followers – Usurpers.  That Elves felt a need to coddle and care for Men like one would care for an aging family hound.  

'Elves,' he thought with disgust.  They claim the best lands then dare to lay down impassable borders, setting themselves above Men only to then look down in disdain, expecting homage and reverence.  

'Well, I am servile to no one!'  

Callin let go his mental ranting and growled as he approached yet another sprung trap.  He stopped abruptly when he noticed a small object lying within the now limp snare.  His face coloring red with new found rage, he reached down and grabbed the little carving and squeezed the piece of wood tightly in his hand, ignoring its delicate but detailed beauty.  

'Now they mock me!'  

Scanning the deep shadows of the surrounding wood, he could neither see nor hear any sign of elves, but he knew they were close, watching him, laughing at him.  He threw the carving down onto the grass with enough force to send it bouncing against a tree only to have it tumble back to land at his feet.  Slamming the heel of his boot down on the little piece of wood, he ground it into the soil, each twist punctuating his angry thoughts.  

'I will just… have to see… if I can… come up… with a gift… of my…  OWN!'

He was still raging silently as he turned to stare into the distant hills, picturing the small camp beyond and the tools and supplies that it contained.  Slowly, a grin began to form on his face as a new determination set in.  Giving one last kick to the carving that was now deeply imbedded in the soil, he walked back toward the camp, whistling on the way as a plan began to blossom in his mind.  

'Yes indeed, a gift of my own.'

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In the thick, golden canopy of the trees high above, the two elves watched in mock horror, their mouths agape, as the man destroyed the little carving.  

"I do not think he liked our gift, meldir."  

"I have told you many times that your skill in carving leaves much to be desired."  

"I believe 'twas the creature portrayed and *not* the carving itself.  You are the one that suggested a hare."  

"Hmm, perhaps you are right.  Maybe the adan would prefer a fox instead?"  

"Perhaps, but this time you do the carving.  I still have a splinter in my finger from the last one."  

The suffering elf gave an overly exaggerated wince as the other grabbed his hand to more closely inspect the offending finger.  

"You are such a hen tithen."  

"'Tis the size of a troll's spear!  If I was not an elf, 'twould surely be a mortal wound!"  

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~* To Be Continued *~

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Adan = Man

Feredir = Hunter

Hen Tithen = Little Child (baby)

Meldir = Friend

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	4. Wounded Pride

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Chapter 4 - Wounded Pride

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Rúmil spotted the trap at once and frowned; this one was new, different somehow.  Invisible to all but Elven eyes, a thin wire hovered just inches from the ground stretched as taut as a bowstring between two shrubs.  He approached it warily while scanning its length, trying to get a sense of the trap it sprung.  

Whistling softly to his companion, Rúmil waved him over.  Following his gaze, Anendel crouched down next to Rúmil then leaned over to pick up a fallen branch that lay nearby.  

"They have not used this manner of trap before.  I wonder what kind of creature they hope to ensnare?"  

Rúmil heard the Wood sigh in warning and could feel a sudden anxiety in the air as Anendel reached out with the gnarled branch in his hand to prod the wire gently.  

"Anendel, wait…!"  

To Rúmil it seemed that time slowed, almost stopped, then sped up again with a frightening ferocity the moment the tip of the branch touched the wire.  Propelled by the thin, flexible branches of the shrubs and as sharp as the edge of a dagger, the wire was cast forward, wrapping itself around both elves to slice cleanly through both fabric and flesh, the biting pain of the thin line flinging them backward with a gasp.  Lying flat on their backs and breathing heavily, Rúmil was the first to recover.  

"Anendel, how badly are you injured?"  

Receiving no answer, Rúmil turned his head in the direction of his friend.  

"Gwador?"  

"I believe, physically, I am injured only slightly, mellon nín, but my pride has taken a most grievous wound."  

Rúmil laughed softly in understanding.  The elves sat up carefully, hissing as they disentangled themselves from the cutting wire.  Once free, they sprung up into the welcoming cover of the trees to check their injuries more closely.  

Settling onto the thick, supporting branches and setting aside their weapons, Rúmil helped Anendel remove his cloak and tunic, grimacing in sympathy as the damage done by the wire was revealed.  A thin, straight wound stretched across Anendel's chest and upper arms and continued around his right side and onto his back to stop only where his leather quiver had lain.  The cut was not deep but bled profusely.  

Tearing strips of cloth from Anendel's discarded tunic, Rúmil wrapped the wounds carefully then leaned him back against the tree, cradling him within its protective branches.  He was panting softly, seemingly unable to catch his breath, and this concerned Rúmil.  Having been leaning in closer to the wire, Anendel had taken the brunt of the wire's whip.  

Anendel noticed Rúmil studying him and squirmed.  His limbs were tingling painfully, but he was sure it would pass, and he did not want to worry Rúmil unnecessarily.  

"Were you also injured, meldir?" 

Rúmil nodded, and said, "My left arm," and then turning over his hands, he continued, "and I cut my palms while freeing us from the wire."  

Removing his outer garments, Rúmil unfastened his tunic with Anendel's help and shrugged his arm free for his companion's inspection.  While not as extensive as Anendel's injury, the cut was much deeper, the blood welling from the wound making audible plopping sounds as it dripped onto the leaves below.  

With a guilty sigh, Anendel said, "Your arm needs stitching, Rúmil.  We will need the supplies in our packs before I can properly tend it."  

Rúmil sighed and nodded in agreement then silently turned his palms up to Anendel.  Anendel tore a few strips of fabric from what was left of his ruined tunic and wrapped Rúmil's hands and arm securely.  Seemingly exhausted by this task, Anendel returned to his position against the tree, his head lolling slightly to the side.  Rúmil pursed his lips, watching him closely; his normally gregarious friend was oddly subdued.  

"Anendel, are you certain you are well?"  

Anendel's quiet nod was the only response given and did nothing to quell Rúmil's concern.  

"You do know do you not, that the blame is with those who set the wire?  'Tis not your fault and I will *not* have you thinking otherwise."  

Anendel smiled slightly and turning toward his friend, said, "Worry not for my spirit, mellon nín.  I will feel much improved after I have had sufficient time to sulk… and have come up with a cunning plan for reprisal."  

Rúmil snorted in amusement, and then giving Anendel's knee a squeeze, he rose from the branch, refastened his tunic, and retrieved his weapons.  

"Then I will leave you to your scheming," said Rúmil, and he gently pressed Anendel back against the tree when he started to rise.  As much as he would deny it, Rúmil knew that Anendel was not as well as he insisted.  It was just not in his nature to be so quiet.  

"Rest here for a few moments.  When I return, we will head back to the outpost."  Again, all Rúmil received in response was a nod.  

Rúmil climbed down through the branches of the tree and jumped silently to the ground.  Cautiously, he made a wide circle of the area and was relieved to find no other traps lying in wait.  Returning to the place he started, he glanced up briefly into the trees, easily spotting Anendel, unmoved, where he had left him.  He then walked over to the trap and crouched down to study the now slack wire once more.  

Brows coming together, he saw something that he had not noticed before; what appeared to be dew beaded up along the length of the wire that had been left untouched.  He gently drew a finger along the line, collecting some of the oily substance on the tip of his finger.  

'This is not dew.'  

The sound of something lumbering through the wood tore Rúmil from his thoughts, and he knew that, barring orcs, the only beings that carelessly obvious were the Edain.  Deciding to join Anendel in the trees, he wiped his hand on his leggings and stood.  

A sudden wave of dizziness washed over him, leaving him swaying and breathless.  He sagged against the tree where Anendel lay hidden, and reaching for a low branch, he barely managed to pull himself up.  Though the sound of his heart was thrumming loudly in his ears, he could clearly hear the men coming closer.  As he reached for another branch, the leaves of the tree began to swirl and sway madly around him, losing their definition and shape.  

High in the trees above, Anendel cried out a voiceless warning as the men approached.  His body was numb and his thoughts fuzzy as he struggled to move an arm, a finger, anything, but he could only watch in horror as Rúmil tumbled to the ground to land seemingly lifeless at their feet.  There were two of them, and the one that he recognized as the leader was grinning widely.  

Callin had stepped around the tree just in time to see an elf come crashing to the ground.  Chuckling gleefully, he came to stand next to Rúmil's prone body.  

"Well, well, now.  What have we got here, another gift?"  

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~* To Be Continued *~

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Gwador = Brother (close friend, sworn brothers)

Mellon nín = My friend

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	5. Ensnared

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Chapter 5 - Ensnared

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Callin was awestruck.  There it was, lying within the leaf litter as sweetly as a newborn babe, one of the elusive Firstborn.  It worked!  He had actually caught an Elf!  He felt himself blushing with rapturous delight as he looked down at his prize.  

Breathlessly, he reached out a booted toe and nudged the fallen elf, rocking it back and forth roughly.  When it did not stir, he swung his foot more forcefully, landing a solid blow into the unprotected ribs of the elf's chest.  Satisfied that the guardian was indeed unconscious, he removed the warrior's bow and quiver, handing them to the other that stood cautiously behind him.  He then leaned over and claimed the daggers from the elf's boots, shoving them into his own.  

The adan stared hard at the creature lying helpless at his feet and then turned to stare at the man standing behind him, remaining quiet but deep in thought.  Coming to a silent decision, Callin pulled a section of rope from his gear and turned back toward the elf.  

Tears of frustration flowed freely from the injured guardian hidden in the trees high above.  Through half-lidded eyes, he watched the man bind Rúmil tightly hand and foot and then throw him roughly over his shoulder.  Anendel wanted to throw himself from the tree in hopes of hitting the adan.  He wanted to do something, anything to stop what was happening.  He wanted to move!

He harshly cursed his body's betrayal.  It had come over him so slowly that he had not realized what was happening until it was too late.  

He had sighed in relief when the painful tingling in his limbs had begun to abate, and only when he attempted to rise and join Rúmil, did the numbness overtake him.  Now he could only lie there, still and desperate, forced to watch as Rúmil was left to the mercy of those who possessed none.  Trying to fight off the deepening dark that attempted to creep up to claim him, he wept quietly, firmly embraced in the protective grasp of the tree that sheltered him.  

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Back in the temporary safety of his camp, Callin secured the unconscious elf as he would any large game animal.  Yanking off the elf's boots, he bound his wrists, knees, and ankles tightly together.  He then slid a heavy wooden pole between the captured limbs and propping it up between two wagons, let the elf hang by his arms and legs, his head arching limply toward the ground.  Callin was literally oozing with pride as he backed away to display the fruit of his labors.  

"I told you it would work," he crowed.  

Stunned dim, his men balked at first and backed away, nervously glancing in the direction of the forest for the elf's companions.  When they realized that no others were to follow, curiosity overruled prudence.  They began to come in closer, occasionally touching or brushing against the elf to see if it were indeed real.  When their moves became too bold, Callin shoved them away, sending them back to their work.  This elf was his.  

Alone again with his prize, the adan regarded the suspended elf leisurely, a speculative expression on his sun-darkened face.  Growing rarities, Elves were exotic and inscrutable creatures to most men.  Never really seen, they were merely a flash of movement caught out of the corner of one's eye or a shiver that ran up one's spine in the darkness.  Callin had never been this close to an elf.  He had actually never seen an elf, and he found it both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.  He knew this creature could be extremely dangerous and that excited him.  

He had planned to just teach the elf a lesson.  His intention had been to leave it suspended in the trees to be found by its kindred, causing some extreme embarrassment and more than a little pain.  

Now he wasn't so sure.  

Callin slid down into a crouch, studying the elf closely; it was beautiful, more beautiful than he thought possible.  Reaching out, he tried to slide his fingers through the soft fall of golden hair only to have them snag on a braid.  Rubbing the offending strands between the rough pads of his fingers, he clucked to himself and began to remove the bothersome twists of hair until the silken mane cascaded freely onto the ground.  

His fingers, now able to glide unfettered, drifted along the long, smooth neck to a delicate ear, tracing along its edge almost reverently, pausing to finger the daintily pointed tip.  He moved across a high cheekbone and down the sweep of the gently upturned nose to brush over the slightly parted lips of the elf's mouth.  He drew his hand away quickly at the sound of a soft moan and the rush of warm air against his fingertips and almost gasped aloud when the most splendid blue eyes he had ever seen slid open.  

Callin watched avidly, relishing every moment, as the elf slowly opened its eyes.  Confusion, pain, alarm, they all flashed in those exceptional blue depths before fading into a look of cold fury.  

"Greetings," he said, and Callin could not keep his grin from reemerging when the elf dismissed him without even speaking.  

Ignoring the smirking man beside him, Rúmil quickly scanned the camp, looking for his companion.  Where was Anendel?  Was he safe?  Callin saw the elf's eyes sweep the camp and assumed that he was looking for some means of escape.  

"You'll find that escape is impossible," and fingering the rough ropes tightly binding the elf, he said, "I tied these knots myself."  

Rúmil's gaze snapped back to the man beside him, and glaring frostily into the muddy, brown eyes, he said, "I will be missed by my fellow warriors.  I suggest for your own wellbeing that you release me before they arrive."  

The man chuckled lightly, and said, "My dear elf, I believe that if your fellow *warriors* were close by, you wouldn't be here, and I would be laying face down in the dirt with a dozen arrows sticking out of various body parts and organs."  

"Callin, this could bring us a mountain of trouble.  Perhaps you should do as he says?"  

Callin pivoted sharply, turning in the direction of his men.  They had begun to cluster around the now conscious elf once again, bits of the troubling conversation having drawn their attention.  They looked from Callin to the elf and then back to Callin again.  

"Let it go?  Let it go?!  After all the trouble it has caused me -- caused us!"  

Callin began to pace back and forth, muttering angrily to himself, and then stopped abruptly to glare at the elf.  Flashing a wicked smile that only the elf could see, he schooled his features into a perfect mask of serenity before he spun back toward his men.  

"Yes, of course, you are right.  We should let it go, but then again…," his tone took on a thoughtful quality as he tried to bring the men around him to his way of thinking.  "…it has presented us with an opportunity to recoup some of our losses and perhaps even come out ahead in the bargain."  Callin gestured grandly toward Rúmil before continuing.  

"I mean, really, *look* at it."  Reaching out, he slid his fingers once again through the elf's thick mane.  

"Its hair is as silk and the color of sun-touched mist in morning."  Callin grabbed the elf's hair tightly in his fist, and Rúmil hissed through his teeth, glaring at the adan as he used his hold to twist his head around to face the gathered group of men.  

"Its eyes are as blue as a deep mountain lake on a clear winter day," and the hand in Rúmil's hair loosened its hold and shifted, briefly caressing a down-soft cheek.  

"And its skin," and Callin paused, his voice lowering in contemplation, "its skin is as soft and pretty as any virgin maid's…"  Callin snatched his hand away quickly, ignoring the snickering from his men, as the elf made a move to bite him and snorting himself, said, "…and just as feisty!"  

His hand continued its study, moving over the strong arms to come to rest at the apex of Rúmil's body, and Rúmil gasped in pain as the man held him a brutal grip.  

"But it's most definitely *not* a maiden!" said Callin with a laugh, and his men erupted into boisterous laughter at the sound of the elf's distress.  

"A creature such as this would fetch quite a price in the right venue."  Callin turned to the others in his small group, smiling inwardly as he noticed the familiar glint of lust and greed in their eyes.  

"But, you are right.  I will just release these bonds and let it go," he continued, and he made to undo the knots binding the elf.  

"Hold on!"  

Callin turned and gave his men a look of questioning innocence.  

"Yes?"  

"What if the elves come looking for him?"  

"If we pack up now, we can be leagues from here before they even know it's missing."  

Callin held his breath, watching his men speak quietly amongst themselves, then released it slowly when, without further protest, they quietly moved away and began loading the wagons.  Flashing a victorious grin in the elf's direction, he removed a dirty piece of cloth from his pocket.  

"Now that my men see the wisdom of what I speak, we can move onto other things."  

Rúmil remained obstinately silent, glaring at the man defiantly as Callin sauntered toward him, running the strip of cloth across his palm.  

"So, do you have a name?"  

Refusing to answer, Rúmil clenched his teeth, causing the muscles in his jaw to jump furiously.  

"No?  Well, that's all right.  I'm just glad you have decided to stay.  Now, if you don't mind, I can't have you making a fuss.  We have quite a journey ahead of us."  

Grinning at the elf's stubbornness, Callin reached over and pushed his knuckles against the still bleeding wound on Rúmil's arm, twisting them viscously.  

"Open up."  

Rúmil's sudden gasp of pain was enough for Callin to shove the dirty rag deeply into the elf's mouth and secure it tightly.  Still grinning, he leaned down close to the elf's ear and drew his tongue along the gracefully curving edge, chuckling when he felt the elf cringe.  

"I think I may keep you, at least for awhile.  And, you never know, you may grow to enjoy my company." 

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~* To Be Continued *~

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	6. Hasty Retreat

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Chapter 6 - The Hasty Retreat

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The Faradrim didn't waste any time, not wanting to risk the chance being caught, or worse.  They broke camp in a flurry of activity, packing the wagons and harnessing their horses quickly.  Callin thought it ironic that, thanks to the elf's antics, they would be traveling with a much lighter load then had been planned; it had truly aided them in quickening their retreat.  

They were but three days from the agreed upon meeting place and six days from the scheduled rendezvous with Daris.  If all went well, the elf would be disposed of in time to meet up with his brother.  

Callin swaggered casually toward the furious elf glaring at him from across the now disassembled camp, a crooked grin spread across his face and a large fur draped across his arm.  Closing the distance between them, he said, "I believe I shall dearly miss your loving gaze this day," and with that, he threw the large skin over the elf to keep it from being seen then lashed the pole that held him to the side of one of the wagons.  

Rúmil thought he would suffocate under the heavy, sweltering fur blanketing him which, combined with the choking gag cutting into the skin of his mouth, made each draw of breath a struggle.  His wrists and legs below the knees were painfully numb, his shoulders and hips throbbing, and each jerk of the wagon sent ripping jolts of pain into his joints.  

He tucked his head between his arms and leaned it against the side of the wagon, trying desperately to relieve the stress in his neck and back.  Haldir would be furious when he learned of his carelessness, Rúmil thought with a wince.  And Orophin…, oh, sweet, Eru.  If he made it out of this alive, they would most surely kill him.  

He'd had but brief encounters with the Edain and those had always been in the company of, or as he would often argue, under the protection of, Haldir.  They were Gatherings of mutual benefit to share knowledge and wares, and those they had dealt with were, for the most part, of noble spirit.  However, Haldir never failed to urge him and Orophin to be wary, to use caution, for in his travels on behalf of the Lord and Lady, he had become chillingly aware of the darker side of Men.  

Rúmil pulled against the bonds that held him once more but there was no give; they had been tied too well.  He clenched his hands tightly, ignoring the burning pain in his palms as he continued to berate himself.  

'Foolish, stupid elfling!'   

His thoughts suddenly went to Anendel, his friend for millennia.  He was still unsure as to whether Anendel had been discovered, and he dare not ask, not wanting to alert the feredir to the presence of yet another injured elf.  He would not risk his capture and hoped that he was still safe in the shelter of the trees.  

'Elbereth, saes, let him be well.' 

Wanting to put as much distant between themselves and the forest as possible, the Faradrim only stopped to make camp when the horses began to stumble in the darkness.  

The captive elf was lifted from the side of the wagon only to be propped up again between the same wagon he had been hanging from and another, receiving no respite at all for his aching joints.  

Callin pulled the fur covering his prize away abruptly, and Rúmil blinked rapidly, trying to gulp fresh air through the gag.  Reaching behind the elf's head, Callin removed the cloth from his mouth, allowing him to catch his breath before tipping a water skin to his lips, and Rúmil hesitated only briefly before giving in to his burning thirst.  

"So, my dear elf, you have yet to ask me how it is that I was able to come by your acquaintance."  

"I care not," Rúmil whispered, as he struggled to keep his head upright.  

Rúmil was only half listening to the man as he took in his surroundings.  Even in the dark, he could easily determine how far they had traveled by using familiar landmarks.  They had moved further south then he would have liked but were still relatively close to Elven territory.  

Callin smiled evenly at the elf's brusque reply, but continued, "I'm actually surprised that the trap worked but work it did, and quite well I might add."   

Grinning, Callin clasped his hands behind his back and began to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet.  

"Hmm, I might have to try it again," and Rúmil stiffened slightly, thinking of Anendel as the man continued to prattle on.  "Aye, I could perhaps find you a companion, a playfellow.  Someone to keep you company when I'm too busy to spend time with you."  

Callin continued to grin broadly, and, oh, how Rúmil wished he had an arrow to shove through his eye.  The man's conceit was beyond reason.  

"But the trap itself was not sufficient; you escaped that easily enough.  You see, it was the toxin on the wire that actually ensnared you, pretty one."  

Outwardly, Rúmil showed no emotion, refusing to give the adan the satisfaction of a response, but inwardly, his mind was whirling.  

'Toxin?'  Then he remembered the dew that he had seen coating the wire.  

"We sometime use it on our snares.  It prevents escape by calming an animal to stillness then keeps the blood from clotting so that it dies more quickly, causing less damage to the pelt," and with a dismissive wave of his hand, he added, "and it's kinder that way."  

Rúmil's hands twisted in his bonds.  What of Anendel?  Was he dying?  Was he still up in the boughs of the tree waiting for his return?  What if he fell?  What if he was bleeding to death while he was being carried further and further away? 

"See," Callin pointed to Rúmil's roughly bandaged arm and hands, "your wounds still bleed, and this one…" and he leaned over and jabbed at the wound on Rúmil's arm, "…needs stitching.  I guess I should do something about that.  You're leaving quite a trail, and I wouldn't want you to bleed out before we reach our destination."  

Smirking, Callin reached into his pocket to remove a small pouch, and said, "I keep this on hand in case I or my men accidentally get nicked while using the toxin.  Even on the tiniest of cuts, it can be quite painful."  

Rúmil watched warily as the man removed the dirty bandages then dipped his fingers into the pouch, sprinkling a bluish powder into the wounds on his hands and arm then back away, his eyes alight with anticipation.  

At first, Rúmil felt only a slight tingling, which was actually a relief from the cold numbness in his hands, but then the wounds began to warm uncomfortably, and he squirmed slightly in discomfort.  

He was beginning to think the Faradrim just had a ridiculously low tolerance to pain, when he was suddenly enveloped by a wave of liquid fire.  His body began to jerk wildly, tearing already strained ligaments and sinew.  Unable to hold back any longer, Rúmil let loose a blood-curdling scream that ripped through the air like an arrow.  

Callin watched the elf's writhing body intently and laughed when his men clasped their hands to the side of their heads as the scream rent the air.  After what seemed like hours, the elf's wild jerking finally slackened, and his eyes slid closed, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as the pain followed him into unconsciousness.  

Callin shifted slightly, becoming aware of the tightness in his breeches and sniffed; the elf's struggles had gone straight to his groin.  Moving around the wagon and out of view of the men sitting around the fire, he took himself in hand while watching the still twitching elf in front of him.  Excited as he was, it did not take long for him to find his release.  

The sound of a carnal grunt caught the others' attention, and they snickered and nudged each other roughly as a flushed Callin popped up from behind the elf, casting them a silent warning.  Callin glared at them for just a few moments longer before he leaned down and with an almost tender touch, began to stitch the elf's arm.  

It was still dark when Rúmil once again became aware.  His arm and hands had been rebandaged and the filthy gag shoved back into his mouth.  His entire body felt weak and aching, and his head hung bonelessly from his shoulders.  It was still hours before dawn, and the men were asleep around a small but brightly, burning fire.  Well, most were asleep by the fire; his tormentor lay but a few feet away.  

Slowly pulling his head up, his gaze drifted to the stars, his thoughts wandering amongst the twinkling lights.  He suddenly felt very small and insignificant against the vast, sprawling beauty of the nighttime sky, and looking away abruptly, he searched for something else to occupy is mind.  

A small group of fireflies drawn to the flickering flames of the campfire hovered cheerily nearby.  He locked his eyes on them, watching their intricate dance.  They flitted closer, clustering above him, and it seemed to Rúmil that they danced just for him.  Lulled by the graceful ballet of movement, he drifted slowly back into reverie, the cold, dull ache that had awakened inside his chest easing a little in their company.  

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Anendel awoke numb and woozy to a sparkling, purple twilight.  He released a contented sigh, lazily admiring the awakening night, until a wet, sticky feeling drew his surprised gaze downward away from the stars to the wrappings on his chest and arms.  They were bright crimson, soaked through with blood and with a loud, grief-stricken cry, the memory of what had happened flooded back into his mind.  

'Rúmil!'

It was to his great relief that he found that he could finally twitch a finger, the hand soon followed.  An arm followed the hand, and shortly thereafter, his feet and legs complied.  Grimacing, he hastily examined the bandages around his chest while trying to figure out how long he had been out; it could not have been too long, for his wounds showed no signs of healing.  

Still unsteady, it was morning before he managed to work his way out of the tree, slipping dangerously from branch to branch, lower and lower, until he fell in a graceless heap into the leaf litter below.  He lay there for some time before he was able to bring himself to his hands and knees and crawling over to the tree that had veiled and sheltered him, thanked it for its protection.  Pulling himself up, he swayed wildly and almost stumbled to his knees once more.  

Now on his feet, he considered what to do next.  Should he go in the direction that Rúmil had been taken?  He knew that there was something wrong with him and that if he fell, help would never come in time.  His only other option was to get help either from another patrol or from Caras Galadhon.  He looked once more in the direction that the Faradrim had gone, praying to Elbereth to protect Rúmil.  Taking a deep breath and gathering his strength, it was with great anxiety and a heaviness of heart that he turned and headed in the opposite direction.  

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Sudden movement brought Rúmil back to awareness.  He was again being covered and lashed to the side of the wagon.  It had been barely dawn when the men had resumed their retreat, and as the day progressed, the temperatures under the fur climbed higher and higher.  The men had stopped for brief periods during the day, but Rúmil had remained covered, hidden from view.  

On the second night, Rúmil was denied the serenity of the nighttime sky when a blindfold was tied roughly over his eyes.  

"I'm sorry about this," said Callin derisively, "but my men find your lovely eyes constantly glaring at them a distraction; you are making them uncomfortable."  

The next two days were a painful, suffocating blur, relief from the covering coming only after the passing of Anor.  Rúmil remained blindfolded and gagged and was given neither food nor water.  He could feel his body weakening and his chance of escape diminishing.  

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~* To Be Continued *~

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	7. Foul Deeds

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Chapter 7 - Foul Deeds

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The little beech sagged under her burden, confused as to why the Late Comers had suspended the Forest Child within her branches.  Tipping her arms, she attempted to lower the distraught elf to a more comfortable position onto the soft, moss-covered ground at her base, tried desperately to shake him free, but lashed so tightly, she could do naught but try to soothe the child in her care.  

"Wake up you lazy creature!"  

A blow to his already bruised ribs jolted Rúmil out of a fitful sleep and forcefully back to the grim reality of the situation.  He gasped loudly, and his body reflexively tried to curl into itself to protect his exposed chest and belly only to be hindered by its cruel position.  

The heavy fur removed, the sudden temperature change from suffocating heat to the damp chill of the black autumn night caused Rúmil to shiver.  Arms and legs still bound, he could no longer feel his hands or feet.  His head had slipped from its tucked position, causing his neck to arch painfully back and toward the ground, and he moaned quietly as he attempted to pull his head back up to his chest.  

"We're home -- for now.  So make yourself comfortable."  

The fading sound of callous laughter chilled Rúmil more deeply than the cool night air, and he shivered again outwardly in response.  His time was running out, his hope of rescue becoming but a flight of fancy.  

The men offered no relief from the gag or blindfold and left him to endure his burning thirst and the utter darkness.  For how long he hung there, he could not tell for the measure of time had become elusive, and denied the stars, he grew disoriented and lost.  

Rúmil was trying to bring his mind into focus, to push away his thoughts of pain and thirst, when he became aware of a crude touch upon his body, a hand moving blindly as if its owner's attention was divided.  

It pushed its way beneath his tunic, and he tried to twist away as callused fingers moved slowly up his body, caressing and pinching sensitive skin.  After giving his flesh a cruel twist, the hand began to rake leisurely downward, pressing into his bruised ribs and over his abdomen to fumble with the laces of his leggings.  

Shifting deeper into the shadows, Callin kept an eye in the direction of the camp, trying to shield his actions from the others.  He did not care if they knew what he was doing; he just did not want them to ask to join in.  Sharing was not one of his strengths.  

Since that first night, Callin's interest in the elf had grown from rancorous curiosity to bitter obsession.  He absent-mindedly gnawed on his bottom lip, relishing the feel of the soft skin beneath his fingers.  He pinched and fondled his way over the supple body, and it thrilled him greatly to see and feel the elf try to evade his explorations.  Pausing to twist a reticent nub between his fingers, he began to wonder if he should again rethink his plans for the elf.  

'Why sell it?  I should keep it, enjoy it.  I caught it; it's mine to do with as I will.'  

His thoughts fragmented when a tremor radiated through his fingertips and up his arm, and he again focused on exploring the shuddering body struggling beneath his touch.  He dragged his fingers downward, pushing his nails into the soft skin, lingering briefly on bruised flesh.  He stopped when his fingers rested on the ties holding the elf's leggings tightly in place.  He turned to give his full attention to the task, grinning unabashedly at his success when the obstinate laces finally came free.  

He loved the way the lithe body moved as he casually slid his hand beneath the heavy fabric to glide over softly curving hips and smooth outer thighs.  He let his fingers dance lightly as they shifted slowly between the legs of his captive, and he gasped in approval when his palm made contact with the warm, silken flesh tucked within.  His hand rested there, his fingers exploring every ridge and dip, before moving downward to fondle the firm but soft pouch beneath.  

Callin could not stop a moan from escaping his lips; the feel of the elf's skin was exhilarating.  His fingers drifted lower into the tantalizing valley, using a feather-light touch to tease the tight, little bud hidden within.  Pupils dilated with lust, his breathing quickened as his other hand traveled down to firmly stroke the growing heat of his own body.  

Rúmil bucked frantically against the intrusion and squeezed his legs together tightly as the fumbling hand began to grope him roughly.  He cursed and screamed unheard through the gag at his unseen attacker to stop, to leave him be, but the hand continued to force its way further between his legs.  

As the elf's movement grew more frantic, so did Callin's.  Touch was not enough anymore; he had to see the elf.  Pulling his hands free of confining fabric, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of the elf's leggings and jerked them roughly over his hips and thighs.  He could not remove them completely unless he freed the elf, but his current view was enough for now.  He sat back on his heels, his mouth falling open slightly, as his lurid gaze roamed over the fair, ivory skin now displayed before him.  

The ruthless slap of cold air against his bared skin shattered Rúmil's soul into tiny, miniscule pieces.  This was to be end.  

From the beginning, as the nature of the Faradrim made itself known, he had feared this greatly, prayed that rescue would come in time but now it seemed all hope was lost.  

He would never again see the Golden Wood, bask in the light of the Lady, or seek out his Lord for advice; he would never again see his brothers.  His body began to shake violently.  His beloved brothers, he wanted them, needed them, now, so desperately.  He did not want to die in this unknown place, in this way.  Would they ever know what happened to him?  Did he want them to know?  

No, he did not.  

He would fade willingly, alone, for he loved them too dearly to suffer them this knowledge.  In his desolation, Rúmil went limp and let his thoughts stay with his brothers, committing their faces to memory, having them with him if only in his heart and mind, and caring little when the cold hands of the feredir returned to his body.  

Callin felt a bit of disappointment when the elf's body went limp.  Its resistance excited him so, but no matter, he was sure he could get a rise out of it.  

He forced Rúmil's thighs apart roughly, pinching brutally whenever they threatened to close.  His hands traveled over the gentle swell of the elf's bottom to grasp the soft, smooth mounds displayed so alluringly before him, squeezing hard enough to leave dark bruises.  He parted the flesh, blowing warm, moist air into the exposed cleft -- nothing.  

Determined to get a reaction, he leaned in and with his tongue, began to dart over and around sensitive skin, smiling at the involuntary tightening of muscle against invasion.  Leaning in closer, he pressed his lips against the silky skin, sucking, nipping and biting, marking the elf as his –- it still hung as if dead.  

Disappointment quickly turning to anger, Callin released the elf and jumped up to his feet, growling in frustration.  Loosening the ties to his breeches, he reached in and pulled himself free and then stepped up to stand behind the bound elf, letting his pulsing, heated length brush up against his captive's thighs.  

"Let's see if this gets your attention, elf."  

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~* To Be Continued *~

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	8. The Horsemen

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Chapter 8 - The Horsemen

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Something striking him hard across the back of his shoulders surprised Callin, forcing the breath from his body and causing his knees to buckle.  Stumbling back as he was assailed from above, he lay there, breeches about his knees, glowering darkly at the large branch that had come but mere inches from crashing down upon his head.  It was not dead wood, so what had caused it to fall?  Another angry shudder and a loud groan from the tree now looming menacingly above him filled Callin with a sense of unease, and he quickly rolled out from beneath its boughs.  

Bewildered, Callin scanned the skies above, looking for the freak storm that must have torn the branch free, but the skies were clear and bright, free from clouds and strong winds.  He was still pondering what had caused the branch to fall when the sound of approaching horses reached his ears.  

The tree all but forgotten, Callin cursed furiously, and with a grimace, tucked himself painfully back into his breeches.  His brother was early in returning, and he had wanted to continue on to settlements before anyone was the wiser.  He glanced around quickly for the skin that he had used to cover the elf during their journey.  Seeing it with the other furs in one of the wagons, he knew that he would never be able to cover it in time.  

No matter, the elf was his, and he would do with it as he pleased.  Mindful of the tree above him, Callin returned to the elf.  He caressed its firm, round cheeks lovingly, lingering over the marks he had left on its skin, his fingers tracing the curve of the bites.  Regretfully, and with a loud sigh, he pulled the elf's leggings back into place.  

"Don't fret, my pretty, I shall return."  

Callin stood and moved away from the elf and toward the campfire just as Daris and his companions rode into camp.  All remained silent as the arriving brother greeted the other.  

"Brother!  Our venture went much better than expected.  We secured some real beauties this time."  Daris approached and gave his brother a slap on the back, and said, "And how did you fare?  We saw much game during our travels."  

Callin was silent, trying desperately not to look in the direction of the elf.  He honestly did not think that he could hide it, but he wanted to put off the inevitable confrontation with his brother as long as possible.  

Clearing his throat nervously, he said, "I guess you could say we were successful.  We also came back with some beauties of our own," and he slapped his hand over his mouth, giggling at his own reply.  

Daris' brows drew together at his brother's odd behavior, but he shrugged it off, and smiling widely, said, "Excellent!  Now, brother, I am hungry and thirsty and covered in much dust.  Let me clean up, and then we can share our adventures over a meal."  

Callin let out the breath he had been holding as Daris turned to go in the direction of the stream, and all would have been well, if one of the men who had ridden in with Daris had not called out loudly with a question.  

"Callin, what is that you have hanging over there in the trees?"  

Daris, still smiling, turned in the direction of the speaker and then followed his gaze to the clump of trees on the other side of the camp and the softly glowing being hanging within.  As the realization of what he was looking at hit him, his smile faded, and he turned a stunned look on brother.  

Callin simply dropped his chin to his chest and shook his head, and when he looked up, he was not surprised to see Daris sprinting across the camp.  

Callin followed his brother.  The elf was his, and he was determined to keep it.  His resolve wavered only slightly as he closed on his brother.  Daris spun around to face him, his voice choked with rage.  

"Have you gone mad?!  Please tell me you have for it may be the only way to save you!"  

Callin stepped between his brother and the elf in an attempt to reinforce his claim, but Daris would not have it and pushed him aside roughly.  

The other men in the group looked from brother to brother and then to one another.  Backing away slowly to give the arguing pair plenty of room, they silently began dividing into their respective groups.  

Ignoring his brother, Daris made a quick, visual sweep of the limp body before him.  The elf's wrists and ankles were raw and bleeding where the rough rope had bit deeply into the skin, and his hands and arm were covered in bloody bandages.  However, Daris was more concerned about the injuries that he could not see.  He noticed the loose lacings and cringed at the thought of what was left unseen and untold.  

Daris crouched down and placed his hand behind the elf's head, lifting it up.  Worried that the elf was unconscious or worse, he was both relieved and sickened when he felt the elf attempt to recoil beneath his touch.  Reaching over with his other hand, he removed both the gag and blindfold, and the haunted look in those dark, blue eyes as they focused on him was something he didn't think he would ever forget.  

Daris closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before finally turning to his brother once again.  

"This is no wild elf that you have trussed up like some mangy boar.  Look at his clothing!  This elf is obviously from the Elven Wood and under the protection of the Elf Witch, and the Gods only know who else!  Someone *will* come looking for him, and they *will* find him, and then *we* will be the ones hanging from the trees as such!"  

Daris motioned to two of his men.  "Help me get him out of this tree!"  

Casting Callin a contemptuous look, the men shoved their way past him, and grabbed the ends of the pole, working the bound elf out of the tree, while Daris continued to support his body.  The elf seemed coherent, but his eyes were laced with pain and something else, a shadow, which Daris could not quite identify, lay within their depths.  The sight of the elf trying to curl into a tight ball as his arms and legs were relieved of the weight of his own body tore at his heart.  

"What has he done to you?" he whispered quietly, as they lowered Rúmil to the ground, and removing the pole, Daris flung it angrily in his brother's direction.  

Daris leaned over to roll the trembling elf onto his back, supporting his head gently, and he was not surprised when the elf let out a harsh, rasping cry as strained joints and limbs attempted to flex and straighten.  Once the elf had quieted, Daris took his dagger and cut the bonds from around the slender wrists, and his fury soared as the released arms fell limp and dead at the elf's sides.  

Through clenched teeth, he asked, "How long has he been bound like this?"  When no answer came from his brother, he turned to Callin's men.  

"HOW LONG!"  

"Only three days."  

"Only. Three. Days!"  

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~* To Be Continued *~

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	9. Confrontation

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Chapter 9 - Confrontation

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Daris returned to the Rúmil's side and moved to cut the bindings from around his knees and ankles only to have Callin begin to laugh maliciously and grab his wrist, pulling him away.  

"Now you're the one that has gone mad.  What do you think will happen when it is free, hmm?  Do you think it will simply thank us for its release and walk quietly into the night?  I think not."  

Then Callin turned his attention back to his prize, his hand reaching of its own accord in a gesture to touch the elf.  

"No, I plan on taking it to market.  I demand retribution for the losses it has caused me."   

Now it was Daris' turn to laugh.  "To market?  To market?!  We are not slavers!  I will NOT allow it!  You cannot treat another living being this way," and leaning in just inches from his brother's face, his hazel eyes glittering with fury, he said, "And I seriously doubt that he will be able to walk anywhere in the near future.  We will have to return him to his kin and pray – PRAY - to the Gods that we come out of it alive."  

Tightening his grip around his dagger, Daris shrugged out of his brother's grasp and stalked over to the group of men he thought he knew, the men he had trusted to keep his brother out of trouble.  

"Leave!  All of you!  Take the wagons and whatever else you think you're entitled to and leave; I want you out of here tonight."  Daris made to turn away but advanced on the men once more.  

"What were you thinking when you helped my brother do this thing?  You have families, sisters, wives!  What would you do if it were they being treated this way?  What if it were they who were on their way to 'Market' and in such pain?!"  He asked bitterly.  

Daris saw them look to Callin for direction but they received none; he was too focused on the elf to notice anyone else.  Seeing them hesitate, Daris called to his men.  

"I need a few moments alone with my brother.  Please help these 'gentlemen' gather their things and escort them from my sight," and then addressing his brother's men one last time, he said, "I suggest you follow the river, and if you're lucky, perhaps the elves will not be able to tell which direction you have gone before you can make it home.  Now go!"  

Daris glanced back at his brother, disgusted with the turn his mind had taken.  He knew that his brother was hard, but he never thought him capable of such cruelty.  Shaking his head, he returned to the elf, trying to control his temper enough to calm his voice.  

Sitting down on his knees next to the guardian, Daris looked deeply into the elf's fathomless blue eyes for a few moments, and then said, "I'm sorry for what has been done to you; it should never have happened."  His voice was soft and carried the burden of responsibility for the actions of his brother.  "If I release you -- no, let me restate that.  When I release you, will you agree, at least, not to kill him?"  

Rúmil looked at Daris through a pain-filled haze, trying to comprehend his words.  Was he being released?  He still was not sure what was happening, and the fact that he was still among living had yet to sink in.  After a few moments, he nodded his head awkwardly in agreement.  This adan seemed different from the others; his eyes held a kindness that he desperately needed to believe in.  

"NO!  You will not release it!" snarled Callin, and Daris stiffened as his brother again grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the elf.  

"Let. Me. Go.  This is over -- done.  Don't you see that I'm just trying to save your life?!" and in a gesture that Daris took for acquiescence, Callin suddenly released him and turned away, his gaze cast downward.  

"I'm going to get some water and what I need to tend his injuries.  You have to decide if you're going to go with me to return him home.  I won't make you go; I can't guarantee the outcome.  But for the sake of what's left of your soul, you should consider going with me, and," Daris looked at Callin scathingly, "even though I long ago realized that the word was not in you, you may want to consider saying you're *sorry* for what you've done."  

Daris dropped back down next to the elf, and said, "I will bring you some water and something for your pain."  Rúmil smiled weakly in gratitude to his rescuer but continued to watch the man that had tormented him for so long; his submission had been too quick to come.  

Daris returned the smile and then leaned over to cut the remaining bonds from Rúmil's knees and ankles.  "But first, let's free you from…"  A sharp intake of breath from the elf made him look up in concern to see his wide-eyed gaze directed behind him.  Too late Daris turned to see the pole that had caused so much hurt descending down upon him.  

Callin let the pole slide from his hands and then stumbled forward over his stunned brother to grab Rúmil by his still bound feet, dragging him through the dense trees, oblivious to the grasping branches that seemed to reach out to seize him, tearing at his clothing.  

Arms trailing uselessly, Rúmil struggled against his bonds as the man pulled him deeper into the woods.  He seemed to have a destination in mind, and Rúmil had no intention on making it easy for him to get there.  

"CALLIN!"  

At the sound of his brother's enraged shout, Callin sped up his retreat, dragging Rúmil mercilessly over the large rocks and tree roots that jutted out of the earth.  Grasping blindly, Rúmil somehow managed to wrap the fingers of one hand around one the roots, causing his tormentor to stagger to an abrupt stop.  Cursing, Callin jerked the elf forward, and Rúmil heard a loud popping sound in his shoulder but still refused to release his hold.  

"Let go!"  

Callin jerked him forward again, and Rúmil could feel the muscles in his shoulder stretching beyond endurance.  Head swimming, he was barely able to register Daris bursting through the underbrush.  His feet hit the ground with a thud as the two men began to fight.  Tumbling over one another repeatedly, the clash ended when Daris' fist landed solidly with Callin's jaw, whipping his head back, and sending both brothers sprawling to the ground.  Breathing heavily, Daris crawled around his brother's limp body and over to Rúmil.  

"Elf?"  

The elf's tunic had been yanked upward to bunch under arms, and Daris paled as new injuries became apparent.  His fingers skimmed lightly over the ravaged body, the bruises from numerous impacts beginning to darken the fair skin.  

'This is just wonderful,' thought Daris, and leaning over the elf, he said, "Are you all right?"  

"Ru… Rúmil."  

"What?"  

Daris had to lean in closer to hear the elf.  

"Rúmil."  

"Your name is Rúmil?" he asked, as he pulled the ripped tunic back down around the elf's waist.  

Rúmil nodded weakly in reply.   

Daris reached up over the elf's head, trying to pry the long fingers from around the tree root still grasped tightly in his hand, and musing aloud, he said, "This tree seems to have as strong a hold on you as you have on it."    

Finally pulling the hand free, Daris gently lowered Rúmil's arms back to his side, hissing between his teeth as he noticed the dislocation and swelling in one of his shoulders.  

"Rúmil, I'm going to have to carry you back to camp.  May I…"  Daris paused, unsure how the elf would react to his request, "…pick you up?  I will try to be careful."  

At the elf's slow nod, Daris moved to a squat, and smiling with relief, said, "All right then, under the knees and shoulders?"  

But Rúmil did not get a chance to reply.  Callin barreled once again into his rescuer, shoving him roughly into a tree.  Rúmil heard loud whoosh and a sickening crack as Daris crumpled into a lifeless heap at its base, and he winced as Callin screamed at his brother's still form.  

"No one tells me what to do with MY THINGS!"  

Rúmil saw Callin approaching, rubbing his jaw.  Determinedly, with what remaining strength he had left and oblivious to the burning pain in his hips, Rúmil pulled his knees up to his chest and then kicked out swiftly.  The kick landed squarely and sent his attacker flying like a bird through the trees.  The effort of the kick left Rúmil dazed and limp but immeasurably satisfied that at last, he had left a mark on his tormentor.  

Callin recovered quickly, though, and the look on his face as he approached Rúmil was murderous.  He stood there for a long moment, his arms clasped tightly around his chest, leering at the elf lying limply on the ground.  Staying clear of Rúmil's legs, the man circled around and swung a booted foot toward the elf's head.  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

~* To Be Continued *~

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	10. Fell Beasts

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Chapter 10 - Fell Beasts

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Brilliant, vivid color exploded in Rúmil's mind's eye, the beauty of which would have rivaled the stars if not for the pain.  He fought to remain conscious, not yet ready to embrace oblivion, but an oppressive weight descending upon his chest made it difficult to breathe, aiding the oncoming darkness.  

Callin pressed all his weight onto the other's chest.  He sat in that position for several minutes, watching the elf gasp frantically to take in air, but not wanting the elf to black out on him, he slithered downward, shifting his weight off the elf's chest, to cover his prey's body with his own.  

During his time with the elf, Callin had come to learn something new about himself; nothing brought him to point faster than causing this creature pain.  He began rocking his hips against the wilting body beneath him, and leaning down close to the elf's ear, he whispered, "Hmm, so it does have a name."  

Callin captured the delicate ear in his mouth, sucking in the soft, velvety lobe, flicking it with his tongue, and he marveled again at the silken texture of the elf's skin.  He nipped the tender piece of flesh between his teeth and moaned loudly at the elf's gasp of protest.  His tongue stopped its teasing of the injured lobe to snake out and lap at the blood welling out around the wound.  

"So, so sweet."  

Rúmil felt the man's hardening groin press painfully against his hip, and panicking, began to struggle anew, his actions unintentionally stoking the man's lust.  Callin's breathing grew ragged, and grunting loudly, he began surging forward, pressing the supine body beneath him into the earth.  

Rúmil's eyes grew wide and incredulous as he was crushed into the forest floor.  This adan, this member of the race of Men, and Arda's supposed hope for future, was rutting up against him as would some fell beast of Mordor; he felt himself sicken.  

He numbly detached himself from what was happening, focusing instead on the shadowy canopy above.  He began to count the leaves on the trees and mentally catalogue the various types of plants that surrounded him.  

His gaze drifted, finally settling on the little lights moving amongst the trees, his new companions since his lurid nightmare began.  He had not seen them since that first night and felt glad that they were still with him.  He watched in a bemused daze as they weaved and fluttered through the branches high above, the lights of their bodies leaving swirling golden trails in their wake.  But, even they could not help him for long this night.  

Rúmil squeezed his eyes shut when a particularly brutal thrust sent a wave of pain spiking through his body.  Would the adan be satisfied after this?  Or was this just a precursor of the depraved realities to come?  He wondered idly if it was possible to depart before the deed was done, if Mandos would spare him the pain and the grief, and allow him entrance into his mighty halls untainted.  And once he had arrived, would he be allowed to roam amongst those who had died in battle or had sacrificed for others?  Or would he be held apart, left to those few who had suffered a similar fate.  

Callin biting down viciously into the bruised, swollen flesh of his shoulder brought Rúmil back from his musings, and he bit his lip harshly to keep from crying out.  

Collapsing onto the elf, Callin nuzzled into the willowy neck, shuddering in the aftermath of his release.  He drew his finger lazily over the soft cheeks and lips of his captive to smear the tip through the blood dibbling down the elf's chin.  Bringing his finger to his mouth, he licked it clean.  

"That was nice."  

Receiving no response, not even a whimper, Callin sat up abruptly, straddling the elf's hips.  He looked deeply into the oddly vacant eyes as he reached down and began to push Rúmil's tunic up with widespread fingers.  

"Did you not think it was nice, Rúmil?" he asked, his voice mocking.     

His chest bare to the cool, night air, Rúmil shivered involuntarily, and Callin grinned as his fingertips brushed across the tiny bumps rapidly spreading over the elf's skin.  

"You are so beautiful, despite the bruises on your tender flesh."  

Callin circled the rosy disks on the elf's chest with his thumbs and then leaned down to tease the little nubs with the tip of his tongue.  Rising again, he said, "No one has ever excited me the way that you do, Rúmil, no one."  

Callin raked his fingers downward abruptly, leaving deep gouges across the elf's chest and abdomen, and unprepared for the pain, Rúmil could not help but cry out this time.  Callin groaned huskily, the heat of lust beginning to pool in his groin once more, and hissed, "Gods, what you do to me."  

With a lascivious snarl, Callin dove down and began licking and sucking at the bloody streaks marring Rúmil's body.  Sliding downward, he delved deeply into the elf's naval, lapping at the blood that pooled within, his tongue plunging repeatedly into the little hollow, mimicking the movement of his hips.  Slowly, he began to make his way back up the warrior's body to give the smooth column of Rúmil's neck a long, languid swipe of his tongue.  

"Forgive me, Rúmil," he said breathlessly, "I have been thoughtless, giving no heed to your pleasure," and bucking his hips forward once more, Callin hoarsely whispered, "No wonder you don't want to stay with me, and I would please you as you have done so for me."  

Callin lifted himself off the guardian to flip him roughly onto his stomach.  Smiling like a child who had been given an extra desert, he settled himself onto the backs of the elf's legs and began to slide his hands up between his thighs and over his buttocks to wrap his fingers around the top of the elf's leggings.  

Head to the side, Rúmil stared blankly, no longer hearing nor feeling anything the man said or did.  He felt he was ready now.  He could feel his spirit pulling free, soon to take flight.  His body would become just a shell, no longer his but an empty vessel that would feel no more.  

A brief smile passed over Rúmil's face, and ever so quietly, he began to sing, not too loud but softly, to himself.  It was a song the Lady had sung to him after his parents had departed, a child's song, a song he sang whenever his heart was heavy.  

Callin's head snapped up, looking for the source of this unfamiliar noise.  Eyes narrowing, he looked down at the creature on the ground beneath him.  This was *not* the sound that Callin wanted to hear coming from his elf.  

"Shut up."  

Callin grabbed a handful of Rúmil's long hair and yanked his head back sharply then released it to fall with a thump against the ground.  This quieted the elf somewhat, but he did not stop singing completely.  

"Shut up!"  

About to deliver another blow, Callin's attention was riveted by another sound, a moan, coming from behind him, and he turned to glare at the slightly shifting form of his brother.  

"Now look what you've done.  Your elvish racket has disturbed my brother's rest!"  

Standing up, he grabbed the now silent elf and threw the much lighter being over his shoulder.  

"Rúmil, my love, there is something I want to show you."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

~* To Be Continued *~

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Mandos = Vala of the Elven dead

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	11. Dead Orcs and Flying Úlairi

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Chapter 11 - Dead Orcs and Flying Úlairi

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Celeborn stood at the very edge of the talan high in the wide, sweeping branches of a great mallorn.  His eyes closed and head tilted into the soft evening breeze, he listened intently, unmoving, to the voices of the Wood.  

This was when she considered him most beautiful, his inner light most radiant, when he was one with the life around him.  It was the gift of his kin and had the ability to affect all those in his presence powerfully.  Many claimed she was the heart of the Golden Wood.  But if she was indeed its heart, then her Lord was its soul.  

But, this night, his beautiful countenance was troubled, and she easily felt his growing unease.  She approached him quietly, hesitant to disturb, and lifted a graceful hand to rest on his shoulder.  

Celeborn wrapped a long arm around her waist and pulled his Lady up close to him, desiring and needing her warmth.  She was his anchor to this world, the tether that kept him from drifting too long within the Song.  

Her voice melodic and soothing, she asked, "What troubles you so, ind nín?" and reached up with a cool touch to smooth the lines of concern from the face of her beloved, tucking an errant strand of long, silver blonde hair back behind a gracefully curved ear.  

"The breeze carries a haunting lament… the trees whisper of… pain."  

He opened his eyes and gazed deeply into the Wood then turned to his mate.  Galadriel gasped softly as she met his unfocused gaze.  Still connected to the Song, his anguished eyes reflected both pain and fear.  She stroked his cheek, brushing away a tear.  

"Meleth nín, what is it?"  

At the sound of her voice, Celeborn broke free, his eyes focusing once again on the ageless, blue gaze of his Lady.  He stood silent, trying to reign in his emotions, and then pulling her into a tight embrace, said, "One of our own is in trouble."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Haldir could not sleep; he was too restless.  Sitting up, he plumped the crushed pillows beneath him and untangled the sheets that had twisted up around his legs.  Letting out a deep, cleansing breath, he laid back down, willing himself to reverie, and began counting dead orcs in his head as a distraction from the confusing maelstrom of unfocused thoughts swirling furiously in his mind.  

He had just whacked off his sixty-seventh head when he'd had enough and furiously kicked at the just-straighten sheets.  Sitting up with a loud, frustrated sigh, he threw his arms upward at his unseen tormenter, yelling into the canopy above him.  

"I. Am. AWAKE!"  

At the sound of a soft tapping outside his door, he glanced upward again, narrowing his eyes in suspicion, and then with a growl that would have stopped an advancing pack of half-starved wargs, he shot up off the bed and threw aside the door covering.  

"What?!"  

Torn between flight and laughter, the young elleth in the doorway held her ground.  Lothlòrien's mostly charming, but sometimes surly, Captain of the Guard, was scowling down at her looking like some kind of psychotic sprite.  His normally tidy appearance was rumpled, and his usually smooth, silky locks stood up around his head in a wild, silver halo.  

"Forgive the intrusion, Captain, but the Lord and Lady request your presence."  

Bowing slightly, Haldir smiled repentantly at the maiden, and said, "Please forgive me for my abrupt greeting, lady.  I will be but a moment."  

Haldir dressed quickly and returning, motioned for the elleth to lead the way.  He raised an impatient eyebrow when she made to stifle a giggle and pointed at him shyly.  

"March Warden… your hair."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Orophin!"  

"What?"  

Orophin cast a confused look to the guardian beside him.  

"I *said* do you think you can persuade Haldir into posting us to sentinel the ladies' baths.  We could be of incalculable assistance… fetching warm towels, passing the scented bathing soaps, helping with those hard to reach places."    

Orophin gave an indignant snort and rolled his eyes as his companion waggled his eyebrows at him.  

"I would rather take flying lessons from a dragon-mounted Úlairi.  If I should even suggest something like that, our Captain would post us so far out that we would do just as well to join the Mirkwood Guard."  

Chuckling softly, Orophin turned to continue the task of inspecting his arrows.  

"Ah, but that would put us within striking distance of some rather comely Mirkwood maidens," and then Orophin's companion gave a little hiss.  "But then, with Mirkwood maidens comes Mirkwood spiders.  Even though I have never seen one of the vile beasts, I hear they are rather disgusting crea…"  

Dínendal stopped speaking, realizing that yet again he was being ignored.  Exasperated, he watched Orophin closely to see if he would react to the silence, would notice he was no longer speaking, but he did not.  He just sat there, humming to himself.  It seemed to Dínendal that Orophin had been preoccupied as such for the last several of days, and he was beginning to grow concerned.  

"OROPHIN!"  

"WHAT?!"  

"What, in the name of all that is good and sweet in blessed Arda, is wrong with you?  I cannot remember when I have ever seen you so distracted.  You have been fiddling that same arrow for the last half hour; 'tis beginning to look worse than when you started."  

Shaking his head, Orophin sighed noisily and tossed the overworked arrow aside.  

"I am sorry, gwador.  You are right; I am poor company.  Let us finish this in the morning."  

As he stood, a feeling of dread flooded through Orophin, and stumbling, he had to brace himself against a wall to keep from pitching headfirst onto the floor.  

"Hold up!  Orophin?"  

"'Tis nothing, meldir.  I believe I am just… tired."  

Noticing his pained, glassy gaze, Dínendal looked at Orophin doubtfully.  

"You look more than just tired, and I do not think that you have been well for days.  Perhaps I should take you to the healers?"  

Orophin took a deep breath and pushed away from the wall.  Dínendal hovered close by, watching his friend gradually regain his balance.  

"Nay, I do not need a healer.  I need to speak to Haldir."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Haldir bowed respectfully as his Lord approached, hand outstretched toward the March Warden.  Celeborn lead him down a familiar path, the path leading to the garden that held the Lady's Mirror.  

"One of our patrols is in trouble, and I fear there are injuries."  

The March Warden hesitated, the vague disquiet that he had been feeling beginning to take shape.  

"Is the source of the danger known, my Lord?"  

"Galadriel is trying to determine…"  

Celeborn's words faded sharply, Haldir no longer hearing what was being said, as a soft but haunting melody assailed him, drowning out all other thoughts and sounds.  

'I know this…,' Haldir thought fuzzily.  His heart began to race, and he was beginning to feel lightheaded and dizzy.  

"My Lord, I…," his knees buckled, and Celeborn moved quickly to steady the guardian before he fell to the ground.  Leading him to a nearby bench, the Lord helped Haldir to sit.  

"Haldir, are you unwell?"  

Haldir stared blankly at Celeborn, gripping the sides of the marble bench on which he sat tightly in his hands as a dull, aching emptiness plowed through him ruthlessly, tearing at his soul.  He squeezed his eyes shut tightly against the onslaught.  

"Haldir?"  

Celeborn's concerned gaze met that of Galadriel's.  She walked quickly up the path toward them, her attention shifting from Celeborn to the march warden rocking on the bench beside him.  Haldir felt two slender hands encircle his wrists firmly, pulling him free of the tight grasp he had on the bench.  

_'Haldir, come back to us.'_

He heard the Lady's calming voice in his head, quieting the lingering song in his ears.  Haldir took a deep breath, trying to regain control.  Opening his eyes, the Lady was sitting beside him, his hands resting in hers.  

"'Tis Rúmil's patrol," he said quietly.    

"Aye.  However, his fate is unknown to me."  She raised her hand up to gently cup his cheek, and said, "He yet lives."  

"What of Anendel?"  

Celeborn laid his hand on Haldir's shoulder, and said, "He is still within the Wood.  You must seek him quickly, for he is weakening."  

Nodding, Haldir stood unsteadily for a few moments, and then bowing to the Lord and Lady, swiftly took his leave.  

Turning to Galadriel, Celeborn asked, "Did you see naught of Rúmil in the Mirror?"  

"Nay, I saw only darkness."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Orophin fell silently into step beside his brother as he descended the long stair from the Royal Talan.  

"We leave now.  I do not want to wait for Anor to rise; Ithil is waxing to full and bright enough to guide us."  

"How badly is he hurt?"  

"I do not know; he is not of whom the trees whisper."  

Retrieving their weapons and packs, Haldir and Orophin made haste to the stables, grabbing a confused Dínendal on the way.  

They rode toward the border at a quick pace, letting the Wood guide them in their search for the imperiled guardians.  Haldir was the first to spot the dark form staggering down the path and heard the cry of the surrounding wood as the injured warrior fell to his knees and crumpled to the ground.  Signaling to the others, Haldir jumped off his steed, and ran over to the fallen elf, turning him over gently.  

"Anendel?"  

The exhausted elf's eyes widened in surprise and began to glisten with tears as he looked up into the face of his Captain.  

"Must hurry… my fault!"  

"Calm yourself, Anendel.  Let us tend to you."  

The warrior grasped Haldir's cloak tightly, shaking the March Warden as if he had not heard him.  

"No time… south, they have taken… him south."  

Orophin grabbed a water flask and bandages from his pack and knelt beside Haldir, who was helping Anendel to sit, and held the flask to the elf's cracked lips.  

"Drink, Anendel, you are dehydrated."  

Orophin looked at Haldir anxiously as he began to unwind the blood-soaked rags from around Anendel's chest, and Haldir's eyes flashed with anger as the seeping cuts were slowly uncovered.  

"Who has done this to you?"  

"Faradrim… six in number… on the border."  

Orophin frowned as he examined the wounds.  

"How long ago did this happen, gwador?  You are still bleeding."  

"Three… four days… it does not matter…  I do not matter… go."  Orophin grasped one of Anendel's hands in his, trying to comfort him.  

"Haldir, he needs a healer.  His wounds are not closing, and he has lost much blood."  

Nodding in agreement, Haldir carefully lifted Anendel and carried him in the direction of the waiting horses, motioning for Dínendal to follow.  

"Take him back to the city as quickly as you dare.  Inform the Lord and Lady of what was said and our destination."  

Dínendal leapt up onto his horse, and asked, "Should you not return to Caras Galadhon for aid?"  

"Nay, Anendel says there are only six of them.  Orophin and I will continue.  I do not want to risk the delay."  

Dínendal nodded and then leaned over to take the injured warrior into his arms, but Anendel still clung to Haldir desperately, fighting the oncoming rush of exhausted sleep.  

"Saes…"  

"Be at peace, meldir.  I promise you, we will not return without him."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

~* To Be Continued *~

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elleth = Elf-Maiden

Gwador = Brother (close friend, sworn brothers)

Ind nín = My Heart

Saes = Please

Úlairi = Ringwraiths

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	12. Strength

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Chapter 12 – Strength

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Dínendal trusted his mount completely, knew that she was aware of his need, and their anxiety was great as they both felt the light of their charge growing dim.  The mare flew through the trees, forcing the wind to give chase.  She was exhausted but so was her rider.  She could feel the quivering of his thighs as he pressed into her shoulders, holding steadfastly the fallen warrior in their care.  She would not stumble nor would she fall.  

Celeborn was waiting when Dínendal thundered through the main gates of the city, Anendel held tightly in his arms.  Both horse and rider were deceptively calm as they were divested of their charge, and the guardian was stoic in his composure as he relayed the events and the words of his Captain to his Lord.  However, Celeborn saw the slight trembling of his frame and the wild glint in the eyes of his steed. 

"You have done well, Dínendal, but you are weary.  Let others care and stable your horse and take rest."   

"Thank you, my Lord, but that will not be necessary.  I am well.  I will see to my mare."  

Celeborn squeezed his shoulder in understanding then brushed a calming hand across the mare's muzzle and down her long neck before turning to leave.  It was only when his Lord had retreated from view that Dínendal collapsed shakily against her sweaty bulk, consumed with fear for his friends.  With his fingers tangled lovingly in her mane, he hugged her fiercely, silently praising her effort and strength.  

  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Haldir and Orophin found the remnants of the trap lying on the edge of the forest and followed the blood trail left by Anendel up into the tree in which he had lain.  She was whispering fretfully, and the brothers leaned against her, trying to calm and reassure her that her charge had indeed been found.  After she had quieted, they stood side-by-side on one of her strong branches, looking out over the wide meadow, solemnly watching the setting of Anor.  

"They have had him at least five days, Orophin.  They are Edain, so they must sleep and will not travel long into the night.  They have wagons and Rúmil so they are moving slowly, and, obviously, they are not too bright.  If we stop only to refresh the horses, we should have them in sight within three days."  

On horseback, the brothers moved swiftly, having little difficulty following the trail illuminated by the light of Ithil, and she seemed to dip lower in the autumn sky for them, brightening their path, lighting their way.  Coming to a small stream, they stopped briefly to rest and water the horses but taking little rest themselves.  

Concentrating on the trail, they had spoken little, unsaid worries weighing heavily on their hearts.  Now, as they waited for the horses to complete their respite, those worries and fears began to work themselves to the surface.  

"Haldir, there are only two reasons that Edain take elves.  For labor or to…"  

Orophin dropped his gaze, worry etched across his handsome face.  Haldir turned away abruptly, thoughtfully looking into the distance.  

"What if it was not for labor, Haldir?"  

Though he would not speak it aloud, Haldir silently shared Orophin's fears.  He had met many men during his travels, both fair and fell.  The inner fire of the Edain burned hot and bright, more so than that of the Elves at times, but when twisted to darkness, that fire consumed all those around them without mercy, especially the innocent, and the thought of that dark blaze turned against his brother sparked a firestorm of rage within his heart.  

"Then their deaths will be slower and more painful than even the Dark Lord himself could conger."  

Taking a deep breath, Haldir turned back to his brother and resting his hands on his shoulders, said, "They are on the run and intent on reaching their own territory.  We will get to him in time."  

Reading Orophin's uncertain gaze, Haldir leaned in so that their foreheads were touching, and, repeating the threat that the brothers had used many times when dealing with Rúmil, whispered, "We will find him, and when we do, we will bring him home and tie him to the tree which holds our talan for the next hundred years."  

Rewarded with a brief smile from his brother, Haldir said, "Come, we must ride on."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Celeborn entered the airy talan quietly and approached the bed that held the young warden.  

"How does he fare?" asked the Lord softly.  

"He still sleeps, my Lord.  We were able to counteract the substance that lay within the wound, and though he lost much blood and is still weak, he no longer fades from his injuries."  

Celeborn continued to gaze at the warrior, understanding clearly the meaning of the healer's words.  The guardian was still young, and while strong and fearsome in battle, having fought against brutish, hulking orcs and many fell beasts, he had never seen the fall of a fellow warrior, a fall made all the more troubling because of the circumstances surrounding it; a fall caused by their successors, by Men.  Celeborn was thoughtful for a moment and then turned to speak to the healer.  

"Go refresh yourself.  I will sit with him for awhile."  

"Thank you, my Lord," the healer said, and bowing respectfully, left his patient without worry in the capable hands of his Lord.  

Celeborn sat on the edge of the bed in which the pale elf lay.  Placing his hand over that of the sleeping warrior's, he closed his eyes, giving of himself to the other, letting his mind touch that of the injured elf.  

_'You have shown much courage young one, and the trees still sing of your strength.  Be at peace for all will be well.'   _

He was about to withdraw when he caught flashes from the warrior's mind, fleeting glimpses of Rúmil smiling mischievously, laughing, and darting through the trees.  

Celeborn laughed softly, he himself remembering Rúmil flashing him that same smile many times while vexing his brothers endlessly.  

He shared with the sleeping elf his memory of a small Rúmil running through the Royal Talan naked as the day he came into Arda, his brothers in swift pursuit.  

The elfling had decided that to properly commune with the forest and its inhabitants as did his Lord, he needed to discard of all hindrances between himself and nature.  

In a bold tactic, the fleeing elfling had tucked himself away inside Celeborn's long robes to elude capture.  For the reminder of the day, all that was seen of the child were the tiny, bare feet that kept in perfect step with that of his protector.  

When at last discovered by his brothers, Orophin wrestled Rúmil to the ground, struggling to pull a tunic over his head, while a very perturbed Haldir stood before him, hands on hips, glowering up at his Lord, admonishing him silently for encouraging Rúmil's apparently misguided behavior.  

Celeborn had known Kings that had wilted under his gaze, yet Haldir had not wavered once, and he knew, at that moment, that Haldir and his brothers would one day be a force to be reckoned with.  

Orophin, finally succeeding –somewhat- in his attempt to dress the naked elfling, stood grinning in victory with Rúmil wrapped up snuggly, the arms of the tunic tied tightly about his waist.  With a *humph,* the future March Warden gestured to his brother, who had thrown the wiggling Rúmil over his shoulder, and giving a bow to the Lady, turned and left, brothers in tow.  

Smiling widely, Celeborn met his Lady's gaze, her eyes glistening with mirth as she held a slender hand over her mouth, laughing quietly.  This was one of Celeborn's most cherished memories and but one of the many that had forever endeared the brothers to the Lord and Lady.  

His laughter faded, though, as the thoughts from the young warrior began to grow dark and sinister.  He gasped as he felt the pain of the wire and saw Rúmil tumble to the forest floor.  He saw the Faradrim standing over the warrior, and he felt the heart-breaking helplessness and anguish of the one looking down from above.  

"Meleth nín?"  

Celeborn turned to see his mate smiling softly, the joy, and pain, of shared thoughts and memories gleaming in her eyes.  

"I fear what will happen if Rúmil is not recovered.  His is not the only life held captive by the Edain."  

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~* To Be Continued *~

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Meleth nín = My Love

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	13. Falling

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Chapter 13 - Falling

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Rúmil made a hard impact as he was tossed casually to the ground.  Every inch of his body hurt, and he was tired, so tired.  

'Elbereth, make it stop, saes, just make it stop.'  

"Forgive me, Rúmil, just give me a moment to locate what… ah, I think it's over there."  

Callin let loose a bark of delight and towering over the warrior, again began dragging the elf by his feet, moving toward something in the dark.  With a wide grin, he lifted the dazed elf roughly off the ground, trying to steady the warrior.  

However, Rúmil's legs refused to support him, forcing him to lean against the man to remain upright, and he turned his head away as Callin's foul breath brushed against the skin of his cheek.  Grabbing his chin, Callin forced the elf's gaze upward.  

"Comfortable?"  

Releasing Rúmil's chin, Callin began to trace the smooth contours of elf's face with his fingers, carefully skirting the small cuts and bruises.  Rúmil tried to lift his arms to push the man away, but they would do nothing but lay limply at his side.  

"I've heard it said that love and hate are very similar emotions, Rúmil."  Callin's finger moved to trace the bow of the elf's upper lip as he spoke thoughtfully.  "If you wish it, I would let you stay with me.  I would protect you, let no other touch you."

Even in his vulnerable state, Rúmil could not help but roll his eyes wearily at his tormentor.  'He cannot be serious,' Rúmil thought.  He would seek succor from Sauron himself before he would willingly spend one more minute with or waste one more breath on this man.  

Callin did not seem to notice Rúmil's sarcastic look, so entranced was he, nor did he hear his brother's approach and jumped, almost dropping the elf, as the sound of Daris' furious shouts pierced the darkness.  

"Damn it all to the blistering fires of Mount Doom!  Why will he not just go away?  We can get no peace at all!"  

Turning back to the elf, he placed an almost loving kiss on a soft cheek, letting his thumb linger on the supple lips.  He was going to miss this creature and wondered how difficult it would be to get another one; if the trap worked once, it should work again.  There were many pleasures yet to discover, and he would need an elf to enjoy them fully.  However, next time, he would make sure that Daris was not within a hundred leagues of him or his elf.  

Callin heaved a heavy sigh, and said, "I wanted to explore my feelings more thoroughly, but because of my brother's constant meddling, it seems we will never get the time we need."  Rúmil looked warily at the man as he backed away slightly, supporting him with just one arm.  

Holding the unsteady elf tightly, Callin tilted his head to the side and watched, mesmerized.  The elf's emotions, usually so tightly controlled, were now quite easy to read, and he grinned malevolently when those wondrous eyes expressed relief at the fast approach of his brother.  

"Callin!  Release him!"  

Whispering to himself, Callin said, "I guess I will have to settle for hate."  

Callin twisted around, turning his grin on Daris, waiting for him to come just a little closer.  Daris was just a few yards away when Callin's grin widened, and he calmly said, "Whatever you say, brother," and loosed his grip on faltering elf, allowing him to fall.  

"Oh, Gods, NO!"    

Daris rushed forward in a futile attempt to stop the elf's fall but it was hopeless.  Reaching the edge of the pit, Daris fell down flat onto his belly, straining his vision in the moonlight.  The fallen elf lay at the bottom, and he would have looked as if he were sleeping, if not for the crimson spikes that pierced his still body.  Daris just lay there, numb.  

'We are dead, all of us.'  

It would not matter that he and his men had nothing to do with the capture and death of the elf.  The association alone was enough to damn them.  

'And we probably deserve it.  No, I deserve it.'  

In the back of his mind, he knew that Callin would hunt those woods; he knew it.  

'Why didn't I stop him?' 

Then the realization hit him.  The reason that he had not stopped his brother was because he had hoped that the Elves would teach him a lesson, some discipline, somehow cure him of his recklessness.  He had practically pushed his brother into it by just giving him the warning to stay away because as any reckless child, he is drawn to fire, to what is forbidden.  

'And what of the elf?  What of Rúmil?'  

Picked by chance, he had been forced to teach that lesson, a lesson that he himself had not the backbone to teach.  Rúmil was innocent in this, and he had sent Callin to him willingly.  

Rúmil was of the Firstborn, the wisest and fairest of Arda.  A death such as this was not meant for him.  No, if death was to come to an elf, it was to be in battle, a hero's death to be lamented and honored by their kin, not in bottom of a dark pit, alone.  

Daris felt the bitter sting of tears over the utter waste of the beautiful immortal's life, and he wished desperately that he had been given a chance to know him better, that he had been given the chance to call him friend.  

Daris spoke a silent prayer for the fallen elf; one that he was sure would not do him justice, and with one last mournful look, stood to face his brother.  His voice unnaturally calm, he said, "You are such a fool.  The Elves vengeance will be harsh."  

Callin let out a giddy, nervous laugh, but Daris continued to speak, "From this point on, we part company.  I no longer recognize you as brother."  

Callin's eyes grew wide at this.  Yes, he had acted rashly and it had spiraled out of control, but his brother had always covered for him, had always rescued him from his own stupidity.  

Daris dropped his eyes from those of his brother, and said, "Make haste away from this place, for I suspect that once the truth is known, you will not be gracing Arda with your odious presence for long."  

Daris began walking away, determined never set eyes on his brother again.  Callin took a couple of steps in the direction of his quickly retreating brother, trying to figure out what to say to clear the way between them.  This was not the way that things were supposed to be.  He was the one to despise Daris; it was not supposed to be the other way around.  What he said next caused Daris to stop in his tracks.  

"But it was just an elf!  And how will anyone know?  Help me pull it from the pit.  We can bury the body… hide it or burn it!  We will simply deny any knowledge of its whereabouts."  

'He said it again,' Daris thought, 'He said IT!'  His brother still did not understand what he had done.  

Daris spun around and briskly walked back toward his brother, actually causing Callin to stumble backward in fear.  Grabbing the man's arm, Daris dragged him over to the edge of the pit, and grasping him tightly by the back of the neck, he forced his brother's gaze downward.  

"He was not an IT!  Rúmil!  Rúmil was his name, and he was a living, breathing being!  You callously and hatefully destroyed that life and for what!  Because of some petty annoyance?  You brought it upon yourself!  You could have moved on!"  

Daris released his brother, wiping his hands against his breeches as if trying to remove some unseen filth, and backing away a step, snarled contemptuously, "Or was it because of your desire to sink to the level of slave trader, just a meager step above rapist, for there are few lower -- except for murderer of course.  Which, I am loath to say, you now are."  

Callin looked at the body in the pit, listening to his brother's words but twisted their intended meaning.  "Killing an elf isn't murder, at least among our kind it's not.  And anyway, won't it be reborn or something?"  

Callin cocked his head toward his brother expecting a calm, matter-of-fact answer.  He had heard of such things happening.  When the only response he received was the bewildered expression on his brother's face, he jerked away.  

"Again I say -- how will anyone find out?"  

Daris just stared in wonder.  His brother was truly lost to him.  Unable to look at Callin anymore, he turned away to gaze sorrowfully into the pit and with a tilt of his head and a hand to his heart, gave a final gesture of respect to the fallen elf.  

Daris sighed loudly, and said, "If by some miracle his kin do not manage to track you down, which is highly unlikely, I will most gladly supply the information they require to find you and mete out the justice you deserve."  

Now it was Callin's turn to stare in stunned silence.  

'You choose an insignificant elf over your own blood?' he thought snidely.  His mind balked at the betrayal, and his face took on a look of loathing.  His brother was indeed weak, a weak betrayer.  

Lips curling into a sneer, he said, "Well, brother, if your choice is the elf over me, then so be it.  By all means, join the elf."  

Daris did not have time to absorb the meaning of his brother's words before Callin rushed him, knocking him off balance.  He teetered on the edge of the pit, arms flailing, desperately seeking purchase.  In a moment that seemed to last an eternity, the brothers looked at one another; one silently pleading for rescue as the other conveyed a hatred-filled farewell.  Callin stood transfixed as Daris' silent plea shifted into the one of finality and regret, and then he was gone.  

It was not until the deed was done that the enormity of it hit Callin.  He had gone way passed killing an elf.  He had just killed a man, his own brother; that was definitely considered murder among his kind.  

He paced nervously around the pit.  

'Maybe he's not dead,' he thought hopefully, and he dropped down to his knees, calling his brother's name.  

"Daris!  Daris?!"  

However, there was to be no reply.  Tears made their way down Callin's cheeks as his brother's vacant gaze met his.  They were not tears of remorse but tears of fear.  He grabbed the sides of his head with his hands and shook himself violently.  

'This is the elf's doing.  It taunted me.  Taunted me and manipulated his soft heart.'  

Callin angrily began kicking small piles of debris and dirt onto the elf's body while yelling into the black maw.  

"If you hadn't toyed with my traps, none of this would have happened!  You're the killer here -- NOT ME!  YOU. SON. OF. AN. ORC!"  

Callin collapsed onto his back, staring up at the stars, a whispered mantra pouring from his lips.  

"It was the elf's doing."  

"It was the elf's doing."

"It was the elf's doing."  

He said it over and over, and as he did, it somehow became real to him -- it became the truth.  

"It was the elf's doing.  It killed Daris."  

Sitting up, Callin cast a gloomy look into the pit, and speaking to his now dead brother, said, "I'm sorry, brother, but if they come looking for you, it must be clear what happened."  

He pulled Rúmil's daggers from his boots, taking a few moments to admire the exceptional artisanship.  The ivory handles had an inlay of what he thought was mithril in a leaf and vine design that twined around the hilt and onto the blade.  They were well balanced, neither too heavy nor too light, perfect, and they were probably very valuable.  

His covetous nature actually made him unsure if he wanted to part with them.  After a thoughtful moment, he tucked one of the daggers back into his boot, and then facing the pit, he whipped the other dagger downward and deep into Daris' body.  

"Farewell, my brother."  

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It was hours later before Callin returned to camp, and only Daris' men remained around the campfire.  Having decided that the exclusion of unnecessary details would limit any questions or undeserved accusations, he created a simple tale to tell and prepared for the inevitable when he stepped into the bright circle of light.  

"Where's Daris?"  

Callin stood before them coolly, his face a mask of combined truth and remorse.  

"When Daris released the elf, it ran, and we gave chase.  The elf, in its weakened condition, could not go far unaided but would not return with us to camp.  I offered to accompany it home, but it refused my help, with good reason I suppose, and Daris feared for my safety if I should meet up with its kin."  

They all watched as Callin circled the camp while speaking in a flat, calm voice, collecting his things on the way.  

"You all know Daris well.  He would not let the elf return home alone without an escort, and unlike my company, his it does not seem to abhor."  

Callin glanced toward the river, his eyes following the trail his men had been forced to take earlier.  

"He bade me to tell you to continue on home with the horses, and he would join you within a fortnight."  

Callin slung his gear over his shoulder and turned his back to his audience nonchalantly.  The men gave each other questioning looks but did not speak.  Callin had no reason to lie, and they did know Daris well.  While his abrupt departure was uncharacteristic, his reasons were not.  Escorting the elf home was something that would be expected of Daris' kind and caring nature.  

"I must now join my men.  I wish you all a swift and safe journey," and with that, he walked away.  

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~* To Be Continued *~

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	14. Wolves at the Door

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Chapter 14 - Wolves at the Door

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The camp was deserted, the fire long cold, when the brethren reached it.  However, all the signs told that those they sought were not that far ahead.  The trail divided in two directions.  One marked by the same tracks that they had been following, heading in the direction of the river, while the other bore the signs of mostly riderless horses heading the more direct route south.  

"What say you, muindor?  Do we divide?"  

Haldir was kicking through the debris left behind by the Edain in their haste, looking for a sign that Rúmil was still with them.  Tipping over a discarded pile of poorly dressed pelts, he let out a loud, angry curse.  Hidden beneath the stinking skins lay Rúmil's bow and quiver.  Picking up the weapons, he handed half of the arrows in the quiver to Orophin and put the remainder into his own.  

"Nay," replied Haldir, "we stay together," and he walked over to the horses, securing Rúmil's bow.  

"I will not be separated from another brother."  

Haldir's fingers brushed lovingly across the intricate carvings of the bow that marked its owner as one of the Galadhrim, a gift of great honor from Lord Celeborn to Rúmil.  

"We will continue to follow the original trail.  Traveling in the direction of the river takes the Edain away from their settlements to the south.  The only reason they have for going the long way around is to elude us."  

Orophin's throat tightened painfully as his hand slid over the white and green fletching of one of the arrows that Haldir had given him, the tip of one finger gliding over his brother's mark on the shaft.  Orophin trusted his brothers above all others, and Haldir's shrewd reasoning and keen perception was why he was now their Captain; he would follow him without question.  

"The river it is then."  

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"So much for the superiority of the Elves, eh?"  

More relaxed than they had been in a long time, the Faradrim sat in a tight group around the campfire, smoking pipe-weed and laughing raucously.  Callin had returned, albeit in a somewhat dark mood, and thankfully, his newest pet, the elf, had not been with him.  

"I will say this, though," said one of the men wistfully, "I don't think I've ever seen a creature as comely as that one."  The other men around the fire quietly nodded their heads in agreement.  "I fear I won't be able to look at the ladies the same way again."  

"I should say not!" replied one of the men jovially to his fellow.  "Especially considering the *well used* wenches resident in that little tavern you frequent.  And even they won't come near you unless they've been into the ale for a considerable while."  A rough curse and a loud yelp followed as the rest of the group burst into another loud bout of laughter.  

Occasionally, the men would glance over at their sullen leader, who was sitting a small distance away from the group.  They had noted his foul humor when he stalked into camp, and they assumed it was because Daris had just taken away his newest plaything and then sent him packing.  

Callin had not let them anywhere near the elf after that first day, and the way he seemed to stand guard over his prize, lingering close to it whenever they stopped, hadn't escaped their notice.  Curiosity piqued, one of the men disregarded Callin's potentially explosive temper and finally asked the question that they all were dying to know the answer to.  

"So, tell us, Callin.  You kept the elf all to yourself.  Did you have a go at it?  Give it a bit of a poke?"  

Every muscle and nerve in Callin's body tensed, but he never had the chance to strike out, for he was not the only one who heard the question.  His only warning was what sounded like a wet, soggy thwack, and then Callin suddenly found himself splattered with blood.  He stared dumbly, blinking drops of the warm, viscous liquid from his eyes as the man in front of him seemed to sprout a horn from his forehead and then tip face forward into the dirt, lifeless, an arrow protruding from the back of his skull.  

A pained shriek pierced the night, causing Callin to jump as another of his men fell to the ground, hit behind the knee, struck as he attempted to flee.  Lying just few yards away, one man had an arrow deeply imbedded in his neck, struggling to breathe but only managing a few choked, gurgling gasps.  

Chaos broke out as the ghostly projectiles continued to slice through the air, and Callin finally snapped out of his daze when another of his men began yelling to no one and everyone at once.  

"The trees!  They're in the trees!"

His stomach lurched.  He recognized the fletching of the arrows whistling about him; the Elves were here.  Without looking back, he ducked quickly into the trees, not caring one whit as the rest of his men fell one by one, their terrified screams following his retreat into the woods.  

After what seemed like hours of running and weaving through the trees, Callin stopped at the edge of a small clearing.  Chest heaving, he leaned against the trunk of an ancient oak, listening for any sign of pursuit.  Hearing none, he slid down over the rough bark of the tree, uncaring of the scratches it caused, trying to catch his breath and relaxing slightly.  

A smug grin spread across his face, and whispering into the night, he said, "It appears that the Gods again smile down upon me."  

His smile soon faltered, though, as the air around him seemed to thicken and still.  The hair on the back of his neck bristled, and a sound, like the deep, rumbling growl of a great cat, reached his ears.  Callin stumbled to his feet, his heart thudding painfully against the inside of his chest as two glowing, leonine figures stepped out of the shadows.  

"Where is the elf you have taken?"  

The elves separated and moved around him in a wide, slow circle, and Callin had to pivot constantly to keep at least one of them in view.  

"I have taken no one.  I know not of what you speak."  

"Long, blonde hair; bright, blue eyes; pointed ears.  Ring a bell?"  

"Oh!  You speak of Rúmil."  

A mirthless smile passed across the face of the taller elf.  

"Aye, we speak of Rúmil."  

"I did not *take* him.  He stumbled into a trap.  When I found him, he was unconscious and injured.  My men and I searched for others of his kind, others like you, but were unsuccessful.  I thought it best for him to accompany us so I could tend to its… his injuries."  

Haldir glanced over the shoulder of the feredir to his brother.  "But alas, he appears to no longer be in your tender care, so I must ask again.  Where is the elf you have taken?!"  

"He much improved… and my brother is escorting it… him back to the Elven Wood, wanting to assure his safe return.  I'm surprised that you did not cross paths on the…"  

Haldir covered the distance between the man and himself in one long stride, hefting him up by the neck in an iron grip.  Startled by the quick movement that had him gasping for breath and his feet dangling, Callin began to kick wildly, clawing at the slender hand that held him in a choking grasp.  

"We met no one!"  

As the man thrashed, a glint of light off metal caught Orophin's gaze.  Eyes narrowing, he reached down into the man's boot to retrieve the all too familiar object.  

Orophin leaned forward, close to the man's ear, and even with the dread he was feeling, a thrill ran through Callin as the striking elf's warm breath brushed against his skin.    

"How come you by this dagger?"  

"The elf… gave it… to me… as a way… of th… thanks… for helping it… him.  

Haldir's gaze snapped to the object in Orophin's hand as the man struggled to choke out yet another lie.  Recognizing the dagger, he ruthlessly tightened his grip, pulling the man toward him until there were but inches between them.  

"That dagger is but one of a pair gifted to *the elf* by his brothers when he was accepted into the Galadhrim.  He would not part with it willingly, even in thanks."  

"The last… I saw…"  

"Silence!  I grow WEARY of your lies!"  

Haldir released Callin suddenly, watching coldly as he fell to his knees, gasping for air.  Stepping forward, Orophin grabbed a handful of the man's greasy, coarse hair and pulled his head back sharply.  Pressing the dagger against the rapidly thudding pulse beneath the now bruised skin of the man's throat, Orophin spoke with a menace that made Callin's breath catch.  

"I smell his scent on you, adan.  If you have hurt him in *any* way, I promise I will slit you from neck to navel and leave your carcass for the crows and maggots.  The truth!  Now!"  

"All right!  All right, but lower the blade, please…"  

With a flick of his wrist, Orophin removed the blade only slightly but did not loose his grip on the man's hair.  

"THE TRUTH!"  

Callin's muddy brown eyes fixed on the dagger; denial was not working with these creatures.  Quickly, he decided to switch to a tactic that had worked many times for him in the past.  Lowering his voice, he spoke in a whisper, trying to convey as much sorrow and regret into his words as possible.  

"It was an accident… I'm sorry… he's dead."  

"'Tis but another LIE!"  Haldir spat out wrathfully.  

"No!  Listen!  There was a misunderstanding between Rúmil and my brother, Daris.  They grappled and Rúmil stabbed him… in defense of course.  Somehow, during the struggle, they stumbled.  They both lay within an old bear pit but a league west of our camp ere our departure on the river trail!  I swear I did naught but try to help the elf, and it cost me the life of my brother."  

Callin ceased his ramblings, turning false, tear-filled eyes up to the elves.  As if burned, Orophin released his grasp on the man and stood to face his brother, his gaze reflecting both grief and anguish.  

"Nay, Orophin!  Do not believe this deception!"  

His voice flat and lifeless, Orophin said, "I do not believe his tale of self-sacrifice to our brother, Haldir.  His story changes too often, and his voice drips with barely concealed disdain whenever he speaks of him."  

Orophin grasped Rúmil's dagger in a white-knuckled grip as he turned a harsh, merciless glare on the man kneeling on the ground before them.  

"I do, however, believe he has caused Rúmil great harm, and if he is telling but one truth, it may be of Rúmil's fate."  

Then, with all the grace and alacrity of his Elven heritage, Orophin did not hesitate to carry out his promise.  

The man stared into the hard, jewel-like eyes of the elves in stunned disbelief as he felt a warm, heavy wetness settle on his thighs and knees.  As they turned to walk away from him, Callin remembered his brother's words and began to laugh hysterically.  

_'The prize is not worth the risk.'_

Jolted from his madness by the growing fire in his belly, Callin resolved to make them finish him.  

"Just so you know -- I am the one.  *I* did it.  I took my pleasure from him, and afterward, I granted your sweet, dear Rúmil a most painful and wretched death.  I left his used, broken body to rot in the bottom of a dark, filthy pit."  

Seeing Orophin falter, Haldir reached out to support his brother, retrieving the bloody dagger still clasped tightly in his hand.  

"He tasted sweet, like a ripe fall apple.  And the surety of rescue still glimmered bright in his eyes up until the very last; it was a delicious sight."  

Orophin's body trembled with fury, and he reached for his bow.  Haldir again stilled his hand and held onto it firmly.  "He taunts us with purpose, muindor.  Do not give in; do not give him what he wants."  

As he continued to try to provoke the elves, Callin sneered, "Surely you aren't going to let the slayer of one of your kin live on, even if only briefly?"  

Arm dropping to his side, Orophin still held tightly Haldir's hand, and in a small, whispering voice, said, "Let us retrieve our brother."  

"Didn't you hear me?!  Don't you understand you pitiable creatures?!  I did it!  I killed him!"  

Callin again started laughing madly as the elves disappeared from view.  He began to wonder if he could do it himself, if he could take his own life.  

'Well, actually, I wouldn't be taking my own life,' he thought with a chuckle, 'only hastening it a bit,' and he glanced around looking for something, anything, that might aid him in his endeavor.  

His eyes cut short their roaming, though, opening widely, as they met the returning mirror-like shine of luminous, yellow eyes.  He looked to the other side of the clearing just as another stepped forward.  Laughing loudly, he marveled at the irony of it all as more of the pack crept into view, growling lowly and baring their teeth.  

Callin opened his arms wide, welcoming their advance, and he admired their pelts as the wolves began to fight over the slippery jumble of entrails lying about him on the forest floor.  

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~* To Be Continued *~

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Muindor = Brother (family, by blood)

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	15. The Pit

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Chapter 15 - The Pit

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They had come seeking their brother, watching and listening from the trees above, clinging fervently to a shared hope.  It had fueled their determination, sustained their need to carry on.  

The Faradrim had laughed and told tales, speaking of him as if he was a thing, a pretty bauble, a trinket of desire, and when their searching eyes could not find him in the company of his captors, they realized that the Faradrim spoke of a possession lost, of something that was no more.  

The truth of it overtook them and hope fled.  Never before had they been consumed with such rage.  They spoke no words, equally sharing the unspoken desire for retribution, to give back the dread and grief that had flooded through them the night their chase began.  

Even the life around them seemed taken aback by their violence, growing silent and mournful, and when it was done and the Faradrim dead, an immense wave of sorrow emanated from the wood -- not for the Edain, but for the Elves and for what they had lost.  

They felt numb, the words of the feredir embedded deeply in their hearts as they walked away.  They had failed him, and he had suffered much for that failure.  

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Haldir and Orophin raced through the small stand of trees, their pace slowing as they broke out of the forest and surveyed the surrounding area.  The cool breeze that had been blowing from the north shifted as they crossed the small meadow and they halted, choking, as their senses were assailed by the cloying, sweet odor of decay.  

On the far side of the clearing, they could see the pit, and around its edge was a flock of large, squabbling carrion birds, fighting for dominance.  

Haldir turned quickly and grasped Orophin by the shoulders, forcing his brother to face him and meet his gaze.  

"Rúmil is not in that pit, Orophin.  He cannot be.  I do not know how to explain it, but I feel it; he is not dead."  

Orophin stepped away from his brother and out of his grasp.  Squeezing his eyes shut tightly against the tears threatening to fall, he tried to understand the confusing emotions within him.  Where was it, that certain knowledge of Rúmil's fate?  

From the beginning, since those first feelings of unease had settled in his heart, before he had even known for sure that something was wrong… Orophin shook his head, trying to clear his mind.  'I would know, would I not?  Why am I not as sure as Haldir?'  

"Orophin… muindor, saes, believe me."  

"I have to go, Haldir.  I am not certain what my heart feels.  I cannot seem to separate hope from certainty.  I have to be certain…," and he faltered, his voice breaking.   

Haldir reached for Orophin as he moved away from him and toward the dark hole, his usually light feet leaving deep tracks in the soil as if the heart was warring with the body to turn away, to run.  When, at last, Orophin reached the edge of the pit, he did not look down but instead looked back over his shoulder toward Haldir, his eyes fearful and full of tears.  

Haldir began walking toward him, slowly at first, and then broke into a run as Orophin turned once again turned to face the pit.  He would not let him face this alone.  

"Orophin!  Wait!  Wait for me!"  

He gasped and felt his own tears break free as Orophin slowly collapsed to his knees, his body shaking with sobs.  He had been so sure!  Haldir slid to his brother's side, grasping him tightly.  

"Elbereth, forgive me."  

Haldir buried his face in his brother's soft hair, not yet ready for the horrible sight that awaited him.  He had to be strong, he could not break; Orophin needed him.  

"You should not have had to do this alone… not alone."  

Orophin leaned heavily into his brother, his hands clutching desperately at the strong arm wrapped around his chest.  Holding Haldir tightly, he spoke with a strangled sob.  

"He is… not here."  

Shaken beyond speech, Haldir said nothing as he himself turned to look into the vile blackness of the pit.  

"You were right, Haldir, you were right; he not in the pit."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

~* To Be Continued *~

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	16. Elflings

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Chapter 16 - Elflings

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It was comfortable were he was.  Warm, peaceful – serene; it was serene.  Vague memories of fear and pain vanished and the feeling of floating, floating free like a leaf that drifts lazily from the top of a tall tree to the earth far below, soothed him.  

There was no uncertainty or doubts of… what?  And that was the one thing that troubled him in this most serene of places.  Doubts, doubts of escape… rescue?  Why would he want to escape or need rescuing from such a place as this?  

He was thoughtful as he saw the familiar small, bright lights in the distance.  The fireflies, they were back.  He drifted through the silvery mist toward them, smiling.  Their dance was chaotic, tiny beacons through the mist guiding him, and as he moved closer, the lights began to glow brighter.  He laughed joyfully as they encircled him, their glow enveloping and moving through him to touch his very soul.  He began to spin with them slowly, swirling in their warm, glorious light, not noticing that they drew him further and further away from his place of serenity.  

Suddenly, the mist disappeared and he began to fall, and as he fell, the fear began to return; he was lost.  Lost and in pain, a blinding, white-hot pain that flooded through him like the snow melt in spring into the Celebrant.  He struggled desperately against the pull.  He wanted to go back, but the twinkling beacons were gone; he could no longer see them.  A choking darkness had replaced the twilight of the mist.  

He was no longer floating, no longer falling.  He was halfway between the welcoming bliss of oblivion and the bitter truth of waking.  He had returned, and it was cold and hard and lonely where he was.  

He forced his fuzzy mind to take inventory of his devastated body.  The body he thought he had left behind.  The worst of the pain radiated from his right thigh to his left side just below his ribs.  The pain seemed to meld together and wrap itself around his spine.  His shoulders and hips were consumed with a burning ache, his hands and arms felt leaden and numb, and his ankles and knees seemed to sing in cadence with the tightening band of pain around is head.  

In his lifetime, he had experienced many degrees of pain and often used those experiences, gauging from least to worst, to catalogue new injuries.  The pain that he was experiencing now had no place within that scale; it was beyond his comprehension.  

He drifted closer to waking, and he thought he could perceive voices whispering to him, encouraging him.  However, he did not want to wake, for somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that the pain that he was feeling now would be nothing compared to the full bloom of agony that waited to greet him.  

He wanted to return to his serene place, to the fireflies, to the dance, but the voices, sweet and soft, were insistent.  

"You must awaken dear elf… if only for moment… awaken, for we desire to know that you are not lost to us… please… awake."  

Rúmil lifted heavy eyelids to the remnants of small, bright lights dancing in his vision.  Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, he opened them once more, slowly, trying to focus on anything, something, to distract him from the pain.  

"He awakes!"  

Staring skyward, he flinched suddenly as the smiling face of a small child slipped into his eye line.  The sudden movement sent hot daggers of pain directly behind his eyes, and he felt a rush of searing bile rise into his throat.  He moaned softly, fighting the crushing wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.  

"Shush… not so loud, Loarel; you cause him pain."  

Rúmil blinked his eyes slowly, his focus shifting to the little one above him.  She was a child of the Edain with auburn curls and bright, green eyes.  Very gently, she cupped his cheeks in her tiny hands and quieting her voice, gave Rúmil a look of great contrition.  

"Oh, I am so terribly sorry."  

"Loarel, 'tis all right, you did not know.  Saes, go fetch Danelhir quickly.  I need his help."  

The little girl gave Rúmil another quick smile before rising, and said, "I will hurry."  

Rúmil attempted to shift his gaze in the direction of the other voice, but his body, frozen in place by pain, was unable to move and the speaker's position behind him made it impossible.  

The other, sensing his searching gaze, shifted into the position vacated by the little girl so that Rúmil would not try to move.  

To Rúmil's surprise, she was another child, somewhat older than the first, but still a child, an elfling actually.  She had long, dark hair and dark eyes, and she bore the glow and countenance of the Firstborn.  

He flicked out his sticky tongue to sweep across cracked, dry lips, desperate for moisture.  

"Wat…," was all he could get out.  He could barely speak, his voice just a rasping whisper, but the elfling understood his request easily.  

Moving away from him briefly, she returned with a damp cloth in her hand, and leaning over, placed it against his lips, letting the cool water trickle down his parched throat, and at that moment, Rúmil thought had never had such sweet-tasting water.  

The nausea he was feeling abated slightly, and he attempted to suck more liquid from the cloth.  Seeing this, the elfling moved to soak the cloth again then returned it to his lips a second time.  His eyes conveyed his gratitude as she withdrew the cloth.  Once again, Rúmil tried to speak, and, while not as rasping, his voice was still just a whisper.  

"Who…?"  

"I am Mirrian and the little one that just left is Loarel.  She went to fetch our brother, Danelhir.  He is the oldest of us and the best at healing."  

Rúmil's eyes darted anxiously about him, trying to make sense of his surroundings.  He was resting on a pallet in the middle of a small, roughly built talan.  It appeared to be abandoned, for there were no personal items or adornments that he could see.  A three-legged chair was leaning in one corner while in front of a crumbling firepit against the opposite wall, sat a wobbly, round table with chairs that matched the first.  The roof of the little talan had rotted away giving only partial protection, and the canopy of the trees above was clearly visible.  So decrepit was this talan, he was sure that if he could stand, he would go plunging through the floor.  

Looking back at Mirrian, he whispered, "How did I get here?"  

"My brother and sisters helped me carry you here."  

Rúmil's gaze flicked to his other side at the sound of this new voice.  

"I am Danelhir, and this is our home-away-from-home."  

This new elfling, dark like the first, smiled at Rúmil warmly as he approached.  Rúmil lost sight of him briefly as the elfling moved behind him to slide his arms beneath his shoulders, and raising him slightly, the elfling supported his head so that Rúmil could drink more easily.  However, even that small movement was enough to make Rúmil gasp softly and waver back toward nothingness.  Danelhir grimaced in empathy at the pain he caused and waited for the elf to steady.  

"We are relieved that you are no longer wandering, for 'tis perilous to travel in the mists for too long."  

Danelhir motioned to Mirrian, and she retrieved a cup of water, lifting it to Rúmil's lips so he could drink.  The warrior drained the cup quickly then looked back to Mirrian with pleading eyes.  She swiftly refilled the cup, and he watched her warily as she stirred a few pinches of dried, crushed herbs into the water.  

Diverting his attention from what Mirrian was doing, Danelhir said, "Drink this one more slowly.  You do not want to sicken your stomach.  

Rúmil looked at the cup suspiciously, as Mirrian moved it back up to his lips.  Understanding his anxiety, she smiled, and said, "Worry not, for the herbs that I have added to the water will help with the pain."  Then her smile turned to a slight frown.  "Unfortunately, it will not eliminate it, only ease it slightly."  

Rúmil drank the contents of the cup, his nose wrinkling at the bitter taste the herbs.  The cup was refilled a third time and after he emptied it, Rúmil sighed with exhaustion, his eyelids beginning to droop slightly.  Danelhir watched him closely, worry drifting across his face, as Rúmil's eyes began to slide shut.  

"Would you like some more?"  

The shake of Rúmil's head was barely perceptible, and he began to sag in Danelhir's grasp.  The elfling gently lowered Rúmil back to the soft pallet then leaned over to whisper into his ear.  

"Sleep now, meldir, but do not return to the mist, for you may not be able to find your way back, you are safe here and will come to no further harm.  We will watch over you, we will protect you."  

The faces of the children faded as his eyes drifted shut.  Do not return to the mist?  He had not desired to leave the mist.  He was at peace there.  He had friends there.  

Rúmil was not so sure he wanted to stay.  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Will he be well, Dani?"  Loarel spoke quietly, fearing to hurt the elf again by being too loud.  

Danelhir gave Mirrian a guarded look before turning to the three small children standing quietly in the corner.  

"I hope so, penneth, but we must watch him closely.  He may still wander, and we must make sure that he does not lose his way.  You three can be a big help with that, can you not?"  

The smaller children nodded their heads vigorously, and he held out his arms, motioning for them to sit with him and Mirrian next to the injured elf.  

Loarel moved to sit in the young elleth's lap while the other two curled up into the crooks of Danelhir's arms.  Once she had made herself comfortable, Loarel whispered, "Do you think that he will want to stay with us, Mirri?"  

Mirrian glanced across to Danelhir with a questioning look as Loarel shifted her gaze to the injured elf.  The little blonde elfling sitting with Danelhir leaned forward to touch the long, silky hair spilling over the side of the pallet and onto the floor.  Also speaking softly, she said, "We could ask him to stay."  

Then turning to the older elfling, she looked into his eyes hopefully.  "He is lost, Dani.  Can we not ask him to stay?"  

Danelhir smiled back at Aerien and then to Loarel but shook his head, saying, "He is not lost, he just thinks he is.  His place is not with us.  He has a family, many who love and care for him, and a home of his own."  

Danelhir turned to look at the little boy nestled in the crook of his other arm who, remarkably, had yet to ask any questions.  

"Eli?  What troubles you?" he asked, and he gave the young boy a squeeze, encouraging him to speak.  

Eli glanced over to Loarel then back to the sleeping elf, his eyes drifting over the length of his body, shuddering at what he saw.  When he spoke, it was in a small, quavering voice.  

"It was Men who hurt him so.  He may not want to stay because Loarel and I are here, because we look like those who…"  

Danelhir understood instantly and shushed him by pressing a finger to his lips.  

"Eli, you and Loarel are nothing like the men who did this.  Their souls carried a darkness that you could never possess.  Our new mellon will see that so worry not."  

Then giving him a crooked grin, Danelhir asked, "And you know what I think, Eli?"  

The little boy dropped his serious expression at once and grinned back at Danelhir as he recognized the playful tone in his brother's voice.  

"Nay, what do you think, Dani?"  

The three girls looked at each other and rolled their eyes as the all too familiar conversation began.  

"I think that we brave, fearless warriors need to go hunting so that these dear, helpless maidens will not have to fret about getting dirty."  

Eli giggled and jumped up, standing as tall as his small frame would let him.  Taking a deep breath and lifting his chin, he puffed out his chest as he turned to scamper out of the talan and down through the branches of the tree that held it firmly.  Danelhir laughed and called out behind him.  

"Wait for me o' brave, fearless one."  

Leaning down to brush the back of his hand across Rúmil's forehead, Danelhir frowned as a feverish sweat dampened his skin.  

"Watch him, Mirrian.  Námo calls sweetly to him I fear.  I sense that he is drawing away."  

Mirrian nodded silently in agreement as he continued, "I will search for something for his fever and for him to eat.  Try to keep him cool.  If he awakes, see if you can get him to take more water.  I will return as quickly as I can."  

Then winking at Mirrian, he crouched down in front of Loarel and Aerien, lowering his voice conspiratorially.  

"Be sure that Mirrian keeps a close eye on our new mellon," and then dropping his voice even lower, he said, "You know how forgetful she can be sometimes."  

All three slowly turned their heads in unison, arching their eyebrows in the exact same manner, to look at Mirrian in silent agreement as she crossed her arms across her chest and glared back at them.  

"You had better get going, or our brave warrior will be halfway to Aman before you find him."  

Laughing, Danelhir gave each of his sisters a quick kiss on the cheek before walking over to the edge of the talan to search for the light of his brother, and he quickly spotted him hunkered down behind a shrub at the edge of the clearing.  Smiling, he jumped out of the tree and slipped silently across the glade to retrieve his brave and fearless hunting companion.  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Celeborn entered the small garden in search of his mate and found her staring intently into the shimmering pool of her Mirror.  He could feel her frustration growing, for the Mirror had yet to reveal to her the fate of one of the sons of her heart.  

"What do you see?"  

Her usually warm voice was cold and unfeeling.  

"Those responsible are dead."  

Celeborn met her gaze evenly.  There had been no doubt between them as to the doom of those who had harmed Rúmil and Anendel.  

"And of Rúmil?"  

At his question, her stern countenance turned troubled.  She moved toward her Lord and into his warm embrace.  

"His fate is veiled from my eyes… for what purpose I do not know.  I sense that he still lives but is in great need."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

~* To Be Continued *~

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Námo = Mandos, Vala of the Elven dead

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	17. Just a Little Talan in the Woods

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Chapter 17 - Just a Little Talan in the Woods 

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"Orophin, help me."  

Orophin grasped Haldir beneath his shoulders and careful of the spikes and other debris littering the bottom, anxiously lowered his brother down into the crumbling pit.  

Giving his brother a nod, Haldir turned and stepped gingerly around the various piles of bone and desiccated animal carcasses scattered about the floor of the pit, while pressing the sleeve of his tunic over his nose and mouth, trying in vain to thin the sickly smell of death emanating from the dead adan.  

His eyes roamed the still form from head to toe.  The adan had been tall, as tall as Rúmil, but broader across the shoulders and chest.  He did not appear to be one who could be taken down easily in a struggle.  The March Warden's mind replayed the story given to them by the less than truthful feredir in the woods.  

_'There was a misunderstanding between Rúmil and my brother, Daris.  They grappled and Rúmil stabbed him…'  _

'This must be Daris,' Haldir thought, and he cocked his head to the side, studying the body.  The angle of the blade imbedded in the adan's midriff easily contradicted part of the feredir's story.  The knife's position suggested it had been thrown, probably from above, not thrust forward during a struggle.  

_'Somehow during the struggle they stumbled.'  _

Haldir knew this was also a lie.  The knife wound was clean.  The adan was dead before the blade had entered his body.  Since the wound supposedly took place before the fall, it would have bled profusely.  Haldir strongly suspected that the man now lying at his feet might have been killed by the feredir and he wondered why.    

_'They both lay within an old bear pit but a league west of our camp…'_

And that was only partially true; the adan was here but where was Rúmil?  Haldir retrieved Rúmil's dagger and passed it to Orophin then turned away from the man, scanning the floor of the pit once more.  His keen eyes spotted a few strands of long, silvery blonde hair, and snatching them up, Haldir slid them between his fingers, knowing the length and texture as Rúmil's.  

Bending down, he examined the wooden spikes, pulling loose the small bits of Elven fabric caught on the blood-encrusted points.  His gaze then shifted to look intently at the packed soil in which they were imbedded, the amount of dried blood pooled around the spikes giving him pause.  If Rúmil had survived the fall, could he have survived losing that much blood?

"He was here, Orophin.  Help me up."  

Orophin reached out and held tightly to Haldir's hands, pulling him from the deadly abyss.  Scattering the regrouping vultures, they staggered some distance away before collapsing to the ground, gasping for clean, fresh air.  Haldir turned his head to look at Orophin.  

"We are both fairly confident that he yet still lives?"  

Meeting Haldir's gaze, Orophin nodded his head in agreement, and asked, "Where could he be, Haldir?  Someone removed him from that Elbereth forsaken hole."  

Haldir replied solemnly, "I wish I knew, for I fear that wherever he is, he is in need of aid."  

After a few quiet moments, they rose and reluctantly approached the pit once more, again angering the resettling birds.  The elves began throwing leaves, branches, dry grass, anything they could find that would burn, into the pit, and then backing away, they set it ablaze, burning everything within.  

Watching the growing pyre, Haldir said, "When this done, we shall return to fill this fetid pit.  It will kill no longer."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  

The sensation of something cool against his too warm skin woke Rúmil from a restless sleep, and glancing around, he again found himself surrounded by children.  

A small, blonde elfling was dabbing salve that smelled vaguely of athelas into his cracked lips, while the dark-haired elleth from before was rubbing the same salve into the raw welts on his wrists.  Slowly, his eyes drifted upward to where a damp cloth was being pressed against his forehead.  

A little squeak from Loarel made Mirrian look up from her task.  

"What?"  

Loarel whispered just a little louder, and both Mirrian and Aerien had to strain to hear her.  

"I said… he… is… awake."  

Mirrian looked down into the weary, blue eyes of the injured elf and smiled.  

"So he is.  Thank you, Loarel."  

Turning her attention back to the elf laying on the pallet, Mirrian removed the cloth from his forehead and pressed her hand in its place, frowning as she did so.  

"Are you thirsty?  You should try to drink if you can."  

Rúmil nodded his head slightly, relieved to find the movement not as painful as upon his first waking.  

"Loarel, saes, switch places with me."  

Mirrian moved behind Rúmil as Danelhir had done earlier and helped him to rise.  Loarel filled a cup with fresh water and held it to his lips.  He was able to drink another before he shook off an attempt at a third, and Mirrian lowered him back to the pallet.  

Rúmil closed his eyes as the world began to spin around him and then opened them once more only to see three anxious faces hovering above him, studying him intently.  

"We thought you fell asleep again.  'Tis hard to tell when your eyes are closed."  

Rúmil looked fixedly at the little, blonde elfling sitting beside him.  She looked like a Lòrien elf, with white-blonde hair and silvery-blue eyes.  It made him wonder if he was indeed home and if he was, where were his brothers?  He swallowed painfully, trying to clear his throat before he spoke.  

"Am I… home?"  

The little elfling scrunched up her face in thought.  

"Well, you are in our home."  

"Nay… Lòrien… am I in Lòrien?"  

"You are not in Lòrien, but we are waiting for them to come," and then the little elfling reached for the cup, and asked, "Would you like some more water?"  

Rúmil shook his head, and said, "Waiting?  Waiting for…?"  

"Rúmil, you are again awake."  Danelhir had returned with yet another young adan at his side.  He leaned down and scooped up the tiny elfling Rúmil had been speaking to and began to tickle her gently.  

Rúmil watched as he handed the giggling little blonde over to the dark-haired elleth.  Danelhir then crouched down beside him, wrapping an arm around the slightly reluctant boy huddled at his side, pulling him closer.  This child looked like a male version of Loarel, and he appeared to be very uncomfortable being this close to him.  

"Mirrian, will you take Aerien and Loarel and see what you can do with the food that we formidable warriors were able to gather?  Eli and I will see to Rúmil's other injuries while you are gone."  

Then turning back to Rúmil, he smiled, and said, "I also found something for your fever."  

Aerien gave Rúmil a wave goodbye from over elleth's shoulder as Mirrian shuffled the little maidens out of the talan.  Rúmil turned his attention back to Danelhir, watching as he crushed some herbs in his hands and then drop them into a roughly hewn wooden mug, adding steaming water to make a tea.  Danelhir again supported him while the still nervous adan helped him to drink.  

"Eli and I must change your bandages and clean the wounds.  We will try not to hurt you."  

Rúmil's pale cheeks pinked brightly as the blanket was lifted.  Noticing his discomfort, Danelhir said, "You were pierced cruelly.  We had to remove your clothing so that we could properly tend your injuries.  'Twas Eli and I who did so."  

Danelhir was careful to move the blanket aside just enough to expose Rúmil's side and continued speaking as he began removing the bandages.  

"You were pierced through your left side and right thigh.  The spikes also grazed your calves and ribs, but your body is strong.  I can think of no other that would have survived your ordeal."  

Rúmil watched as the shy, little adan silently handed the older elfling what he needed as he cleaned the wound in his side.  Danelhir then repeated the same steps with his thigh before turning his attention to the other scrapes and bruises that covered his body.  He tenderly rubbed salve into his bruised ribs and hips and then handed the jar to the small boy before taking up a damp cloth to clean the smaller wounds.  

"Your right shoulder was dislocated, and Mirrian and Eli aided me in putting it back into place shortly after we brought you here; you must try not to move it."  Then he leaned over and removed a thick bandage from Rúmil's shoulder, and said, "There is also a… wound on your shoulder that has become badly infected."  

Rúmil looked away from Danelhir's knowing gaze and back to the little adan.  His recollection of all that had happened to him was still hazy but the throbbing pain from bite wound on his shoulder pulled that particular memory forward with vivid clarity.  Danelhir followed his gaze to Eli and sighed, understanding his desire not to speak further of the injury.  

"Eli, rub some salve into the bruises on Rúmil's knees and ankles while I tend to these scratches."  

Eli's eyes widened, darting back and forth between the jar in his hand and the bruises in question.  Rúmil continued to watch him as he dipped his fingers into the jar and then lifted them out to stare at the fragrant goop that covered his fingers.  He seemed fearful and Rúmil was not sure why.  

"'Tis all right, Eli; you will not hurt him."  

Eli let out a breath, letting his fingers hover for a few moments before gingerly rubbing the salve into the bruised skin.  Danelhir smiled and nodded in approval then turned to complete his task.  When Eli had finished, Danelhir leaned over and looked into the eyes of the warrior.  

"Rúmil, I need to shift you onto your side so that I can see to the wounds on your back.  It will be painful."  

Rúmil nodded in understanding but was not as prepared as he hoped when the pain hit.  He bit his bottom lip, splitting the tender, healing skin, as Danelhir began to roll him, and he cried out softly as his hip, thigh, and shoulder were pressed into the pallet.  

The young boy jumped, startled by the sound, and looked down at Rúmil with large, green eyes.  He desperately wanted to comfort the elf, but he was not sure if elf wanted comfort from him.  Rúmil squeezed his eyes shut tightly as Danelhir tended the large wounds.  Eli noticed the blood welling up on his lip, and tears began to slip from his eyes when the elf moaned, obviously struggling to stay quiet.  

However, when he heard the elf suck in a hitched sob, he could not stand it any longer and sat down facing Rúmil.  His eyes full of concern, Eli gazed deeply into the paling face of the elf and tentatively reached out to grasp the larger, trembling hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.  

Danelhir worked as quickly as he could and then slowly moved the elf onto his back once more, rechecking the bandages to make sure that they were still in place.  A shimmering, blue gaze met his and he leaned over to push the long, golden hair back behind Rúmil's ears.  

"You should rest now," he said softly.    

Danelhir tucked in the blankets and then placed a hand on Rúmil's forehead.  

"Your fever has lessened, that is good," and looking at his brother, the corners of Danelhir's mouth twitched upward.  Eli was still holding onto the elf's hand tightly.  

"I believe my brother would like to stay with you for awhile, if that is acceptable to you?"  

Rúmil felt the small, warm hands wrapped around his, and turned his gaze to the small child who was watching over him protectively and nodded his head.  

These children had to be the most perplexing creatures he had ever met.  They referred to themselves as siblings, yet they obviously were not.  They seemed to know who he was, but he could not remember ever meeting them.  And where were their parents?  His curiosity wanted to voice these questions and more, but he was just too tired and instead willingly gave in to the call of sleep.  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

~* To Be Continued *~

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	18. Little Mysteries

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Chapter 18 - Little Mysteries

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Haldir and Orophin circled the area around the pit in ever widening circles, looking for anything that would lead them to Rúmil.  

It was close to sunset when they found their first sign, a few strands of Rúmil's hair caught up in the thin branches of a small tree north of the pit.  They hung alone, the surrounding area undisturbed.  

"I doubt that Rúmil could have journeyed this far unaided or without leaving some sign of his passing, especially if he is injured as badly as I think," Haldir said thoughtfully.  He was growing more and more frustrated.  The trail, while terrible at its supposed end, had been relatively easy to follow up until now.  It was as if Rúmil had vanished.  

"These strands could have been carried on the wind!"  

Orophin climbed nimbly up into a tree, looking about for homesteads or signs of habitation.  Descending back to the ground, he shook his head in answer to Haldir's silent question, and then said, "Even without injury, he could not have easily ascended out of that pit without aid.  Someone helped him."  

Haldir glanced upward at the darkening sky and growled loudly.  "It grows too dark to search further.  We will camp here for the night and begin anew in the morning.  I do not want to risk missing anything."  

They lay quietly, staring up at the stars, resting but unable and unwilling to give into reverie while Rúmil was still out there, somewhere.  

"Haldir, the adan said that he…," Orophin choked slightly, his voice quavering, "…he took his pleasure of Rúmil.  You know what becomes of our kind when abused thusly.  He will either fade or need to travel West."  

Orophin looked away from the stars to his brother.  "I cannot be parted from him again."  

Haldir closed his eyes against the tears threatening to fall.  The thought of Rúmil being forced to do anything was as a knife thrust into his heart.  He was the light of their small family, quick to laugh and to bring laughter, trusting but not naïve, gentle.  To have that torn away without mercy or regard… he should not have been there!  Now, because of him, there was a chance that he would lose both his brothers.  

"I will not ask you stay," said Haldir, his voice hoarse with emotion.  "If Rúmil must go, for I will not see him fade, I will travel with you."  

Orophin grasped his brother's hand tightly, fully aware of the dark thoughts pulling him under.  

"You are not to blame in this, Haldir.  Rúmil loves that part of the Wood and would have harassed you until the end-of-days to send him there."  

"I am his Captain, I should not let…"

"… him patrol one of the quieter borders?"  Orophin finished for him.  "You could not have known what would happen!"  Orophin's face grew somber, and he looked back to the stars.  "Nay, 'tis the doing of the beasts who took him," and his voice growing cold, he said, "Men are no better than orcs to my eyes."  

Haldir felt Orophin's body shudder beside him and reached over and pulled him closer, wrapping him in a strong embrace.  They stayed like that, each trapped within their own dark thoughts, before an apprehensive intake of breath from Orophin broke the silence.  

"He asked me to go with him." 

"What?"  

"Rúmil, he asked me to go with him.  I laughed…," Orophin said in a pained whisper.  "I laughed, Haldir.  I told him that I had better uses for my time then to spend it in some remote outpost with nothing to do but watch the leaves fall from the trees.  If I had been with him, things might have gone differently."

"You are right, it could have gone differently.  You could have been taken as well, and I would be out here looking for not one but both of you, so let us not do this.  'Tis done and we cannot change it."

Orophin nodded against his shoulder, releasing a tremulous sigh, comforted by his brother's warmth and closeness.  

"He is still with us, Orophin, so let us not lose hope, and pray to the Valar that Rúmil's gift for getting out of trouble as easily as he gets into it does not fail him."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He could not breathe, he could not see, he could not move.  Rúmil fought desperately to pull himself out of the inky blackness that was suffocating him, but his arms and legs felt thick and heavy, stuck utterly in the mire.  Unable to take in air, his lungs expanded hopelessly, and he thought they would burst as the darkness pressed down on him.  There was no escape.  

His terror grew at the feel of hands on his body; they were everywhere at once, grabbing him, stroking him, hurting him.  He opened his mouth to scream but could make no sound and began to thrash frantically, trying to escape their harsh touch.  There would be no rescue.  

"Rúmil!  Awake!"  

He was fading.  His heart thundered painfully in his chest and then constricted, as if it was in a vice-like grip.  It would be over soon, but it was so painful.  Why did it have to be so painful?  

"Rúmil, you will cause yourself harm.  Awake!  'Tis only a dream, you are safe now."   

Slowly, the bruising touches became soft, brushing against his cheek and across his brow, and a gentle voice broke through his feverish nightmare and echoed in his mind.  

"Breathe, Rúmil, breathe."  

Waking suddenly, Rúmil took in a gulping lungful of air, wheezing in and out rapidly, still unable to catch his breath.  His eyes darted about him wildly, looking for his unseen attacker, finally to settle on the form of Danelhir leaning over him with his hand resting against his rapidly beating heart.  

"Rúmil, you must calm yourself; slow your breathing."  

Rúmil concentrated on the sound of the elfling's voice and the feel of the warm hand moving in soothing circles over his chest.  As the remnants of the dream faded, his breathing began to slow, his heart stilling to a more peaceful rhythm.  He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and released a quiet sob.  

"Eli became worried.  He thought you had stopped breathing."  

Rúmil felt the wetness of tears on his skin and inwardly cursed his weakness.  Danelhir watched him carefully, sensing his self-reproach.  

"The dreams you are having are natural, and the release your body seeks is not a weakness."  

Rúmil shivered as a chill settled over him.  

"I feel so very weary.  I cannot move.  I feel… cold."  

"Your strength will return, meldir.  Your spirit is suffering and that affects your body and its ability to heal."  

Danelhir quickly checked Rúmil bandages, making sure that none had loosened or slipped during the warrior's unconscious struggles.  He then adjusted the blankets covering the elf, pulling them up over his chest, and tucking them in tightly to shut out the cool, autumn air.  Satisfied, he said, "'Twould help you to speak of your dreams, Rúmil.  We wish to see you well."  

Rúmil stared at the child as his dark eyes regarded him solemnly.  How was it he possessed the knowledge that he did?  How could he see what was hidden, hear what was unsaid?

"Rúmil?"  

"How is it you know my name?"    

Danelhir smiled widely at him, his eyes twinkling with mischief, and said, "I feel that you will heal much more quickly if your mind turns from its troubles to solve that particular mystery."  

"But I…"  

Danelhir raised his hand, effectively dismissing any more questions, and then picked up the tray lying beside him, tipping it slightly so Rúmil could see its contents.  

"I have brought you something to eat.  Mirrian made an herb and vegetable broth, and Loarel and Aerien have pressed a bit of fruit into a juice for you.  Are you hungry?"  

Rúmil shook his head and looked away; the thought of food was just too much to bear, causing his head to swim.  

"The soup is warm; it will ease your chill, and the juice is sweet.  Come, try just a little, and if you begin sicken, we will try again later." 

Rúmil was about to refuse again when the smell of the soup wafted toward him, and a loud complaining rumble told him that his stomach thought otherwise.  Rúmil looked back at Danelhir sheepishly, smiling faintly.  

"I will try."  

"Good.  You have not eaten in some time, so we will start slowly."  And then smiling back, Danelhir said, "'Tis good to see you smile."  

Danelhir helped Rúmil to drink the broth and then followed it with the juice.  Setting the empty tray aside, he again checked Rúmil's wounds, rubbing more salve onto the various bruises and cuts, and then replaced the poultice covering the wound on his shoulder.  

"Now, I must go find Eli.  He was quite upset earlier."  

"Why does he… he seems frightened of me?"  

Smiling down at Rúmil, he answered, "He is not frightened of you, mellon nín.  He is worried that you are frightened of him."    

Rúmil gave Danelhir a look of bewilderment.  

"He fears that, because he and Loarel look like those who hurt you, his presence will cause you further harm."  

"Nay, he could never…"  

"I know and I have told him as much, but he doubts still.  I suspect the reason he is not here, right now, is because of his belief that he has hurt you in some way, perhaps somehow brought about your dreams."  

Danelhir stood, then said, "But worry not, I will find him.  In the meantime, my muinthil will watch over you," and then with a sly grin, he added, "Or fuss over you, 'tis hard to tell with them."  

The shuffle of feet on the creaking floor of the talan drew their attention.  Danelhir turned and smiled, and with a grand bow, said, "My dear ones, he is all yours.  I need to go find our missing warrior."  With a final wink at Rúmil, Danelhir leapt from the edge of the talan in search of his brother.  

Rúmil watched warily as the three maidens approached.  They were carrying sloshing buckets of water, bundles of cloth, and a few brightly colored jars.  Mirrian helped her sisters put down their loads and then looked hopefully at Rúmil.  

"We would like to wash your hair for you.  Danelhir thought that you would like that," and seeing Rúmil hesitate, she added, "'Tis quite tangled and dirty."  

Looking into their eager faces, Rúmil could not help but nod and hope that this was not going to hurt as much as he thought it would.  Another smile, unbidden, flashed briefly across his face at the sudden squeals of delight that issued from Loarel and Aerien, and Mirrian laughed as she moved up behind him.  

"They were hoping that you would agree.  I believe they are quite taken with you."  

"Mirri!"  Aerien's shocked reply was muffled, her face hidden in her hands, while Loarel blushed intensely, almost dropping the jars she held.  

"We just think… we just think he is very pretty, that is all."  

"Do not fuss so," Mirrian replied brightly, "I was just teasing," and then with surprising strength, she supported Rúmil's neck and shoulders carefully while the two smaller maidens began to wash his hair.  

Rúmil had to admit he was uncertain at first, but the feel of the warm water caressing his skin and tiny fingers massaging his scalp and hair was very comforting, helping to ease the throbbing ache in his head.  Feeling somewhat content, he closed his eyes and sighed.  

Once they had finished, Mirrian laid him back onto the dry cloths, and they began the task of combing out the tangles in his damp hair.  

Opening his eyes, Rúmil noticed that Eli had returned but was sitting slightly apart, his arms wrapped around his legs, and his chin resting on his knees.  He was watching his sisters closely, flinching whenever they accidentally pulled at a tangle.  

After what looked like a particularly nasty pull, he looked worriedly into the elf's face to see Rúmil watching him.  Eli stiffened slightly and was about to rise and leave, when he thought he saw the injured elf make a move to reach out.  Unsure, he scooted a little closer to Rúmil and slid his hand toward the other, stopping just short of touching.  Rúmil reached out and closed the short distance between their fingers, covering the tiny hand with his.  Lip trembling, Eli brought his gaze back to meet Rúmil's, smiling shyly.  

Looking past Eli and into the corner, Rúmil's gaze met that of a smiling Danelhir, and young elf lifted his hand to his heart, giving a bow of thanks.  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Dani and Mirri say that we should not stray too far.  *I* think *they* think we are babies," said Loarel in a much put-upon tone of voice.    

Danelhir and Mirrian had left the three youngest to watch over Rúmil while they removed the sodden cloths and buckets.  Aerien and Loarel chattered on endlessly as they gently brushed his now dry hair, twirling it into braids of various designs.  

"It can be dangerous to wander alone.  Look what happened to me, and I am no longer an elfling, though, I do know what you mean.  I have two brothers; they can be quite protective at times."  

Rúmil pondered his next question carefully.  Danelhir had given him a challenge, a mystery to solve, and he believed that the three little ones gathered around him were his best chance of succeeding.  Deciding to start simply, he asked, "Tell me, how long has Danelhir been taking care of you?"  

Shrugging, Loarel looked over at Eli, and said, "He has taken care of us for a very long time… for as long as I can remember."  

"And you, Aerien?"  Rúmil reached out a tugged gently the small braid that was nestled in the little elfling's soft, blonde hair. 

"He and Mirri have always taken care of me… us.  We have always been together." 

Rúmil pursed his lips.  All right, let us try another approach.  

"What about your parents?"  

"Parents?"  

All three looked at him as if he had begun to sprout feathered wings.  

"Aye, the ones who gave you life."  

Finger tapping against his lips, Eli seemed to contemplate this question seriously, and then said, "Well, Ilúvatar gave us life.  Did he not give you life?"  

"In a way, I guess he did, but it was my Naneth and Adar who made it possible for me to be here."  

Aerien's gaze turned from one of utter confusion to fierce curiosity and leaning low, she whispered, "How did they do that?"  

Rúmil thought if he could squirm, he would, and it suddenly occurred to him why his Lady, usually the vision of serenity and calm, had looked so flustered when he had made a similar query so long ago.  

Smiling sweetly, she had sent him, along with his question, to his Lord for answers.  He had spent the rest of the day with Lord Celeborn, and now, thinking back, Rúmil realized had never really received the answer to his question.  

"Well, they… umm…, that is something that you will have to ask Danelhir when you are older."  

"Older?"  

Rúmil was beginning to feel like he was having a conversation with the Lady right now.  

"Aye, years from now, when you have grown."  

"Where are your parents, Rúmil?  Have they always taken care of you?"  

Rúmil grew thoughtful.  

"Nay, my brothers and the Lord and Lady…"  

Eli brows came together, a concerned look flashing across his face, as Rúmil fell silent.  

"Rúmil?"  

Rúmil's voice faltered.  He was not sure when it happened or even how it happened but, somehow, they had turned the tables on him.  Now, he was the one answering all the questions.  This was all getting very disconcerting.  Eyes narrowing, he asked, "How is it you know my name?"  

"I think Dani told us."  

"Nay, it was Mirri."  

Rúmil heaved a heavy sigh.  

"May we please hear more about the Lady?" 

"Oh, yes please, and your brothers too?" 

"Rúmil?"    

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

~* To Be Continued *~

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Adar = Father

Muinthil = sisters

Naneth = Mother

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	19. Journey's End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 19 - Journey's End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Look, Rúmil's brothers have come."  

Tucked up tight, high in the trees, Aerien and Loarel twisted around, gazing through the colorful foliage at the approaching elves.  

Aerien's head quirked to the side at the sight of the brothers, and then turning to Mirrian, she asked, "Mirri, why are they so sad?  Are they not happy that Rúmil lives?"  

"Aye, they will be, but they do not yet know for certain.  They believe him lost and gravely injured and carry within themselves the burden of not being able to prevent what happened to him, for not reaching him in time."  

Loarel sighed softly and giving Mirrian a sideway glance, said, "They are also very pretty, just like Rúmil."  

The girls giggled into their hands as Mirrian gave Loarel a playful shove, and shaking her head, said, "Aye, they are very pretty.  Now, are you ready?"  

Their small heads bobbed up and down enthusiastically, and their eyes were bright with excitement.  

"Good, then let us begin and remember…," Mirrian said, pointing her finger to punctuate her next words, "…not too fast."  

"Not too fast, we promise," they said in unison and smiling gaily, they began their descent down through the branches.  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Haldir and Orophin rose with Anor to continue northward on their search, coming across more signs of Rúmil's passing as they traveled; a length of bloody rope, small pieces of torn fabric, and dried blood smeared on a few blades of grass.  However, once again, the trail grew difficult to follow.  

Haldir was about to suggest backtracking when he caught a glint of light and a flash of movement amongst the trees out of the corner of his eye.  Brushing Orophin's hand with his, he tilted his head in the direction of the wood.  

Nodding slightly, Orophin moved toward his horse, casually glancing in the direction that Haldir had indicated, and there, within the trees, stood two small children looking boldly back at him.  Voice soft, he whispered, "Haldir, I believe that we have company."  

Haldir came to stand next to his brother, scrutinizing the small children standing like statues amongst the trees.  

"Who do you think they are?"  

"I have no idea," Haldir replied, still watching the children.  "It seems odd that they would be so close to this place.  There are no Edain settlements near, and one of them appears to be Elven."  

The standoff lingering, the tiny blonde lifted her hand and waved her fingers in a small gesture of greeting.  Smiling, Orophin lifted his hand, repeating the gesture, and then asked, "Well, shall we go introduce ourselves?"  

"By all means, muindor, but you are much better with the young ones than I; you go first."  

"One day, Haldir, you may have little ones of your own; what are you going to do then?"  Orophin chided quietly, as he began to walk slowly toward the children.  

"I would rather face a raging Balrog, but, if it does happen, I will just send them to their Uncle Orophin for a visit," and leaning in closer to his brother's side, he said, "…a very long visit."  

At the brothers' approach, the children began to creep back, and as the elves came closer, they picked up the pace of their retreat, finally breaking into a run to disappear from view all together.  

Stunned by their rapid withdraw, the guardians stood, unmoving, just inside the tree line, looking for any sign of the path they had taken.  Orophin studied the trees for a few moments before turning back to Haldir.  

"What did you do?" then narrowing his eyes, he asked, "Were you scowling at them?"    

"I did naught!  And, I do not *scowl*!"  Throwing up his hands, Haldir asked, "Please explain to me why elflings seem to scatter like dandelion heads into the wind whenever I get within ten yards of them?  I do not understand?"  

"Perhaps they sense your fear."  

"I beg your pardon?  Fear?"  Haldir crossed his arms across his chest, glaring at his brother.  "I am a March Warden of the Golden Wood, a Captain of the Galadhrim, and protector to the Lord Celeborn and Galadriel, Lady of Light.  I have battled the evil minions of the Dark Lord for millennia -- smelly orcs, snarling wargs, ill-mannered trolls, and the twin sons of Imladris.  I. Fear. Nothing," Haldir finished haughtily.    

"Uh huh."

"I do not *fear* them!  I am simply…"  

The sound of giggling reached their ears, drawing their attention.  Looking into the shadows, they moved in the direction of the sound.  

"They are trying to lead us; it could be a trap."  

The carefree laughter was joined by a soft, indecipherable whispering, a quiet entreaty layered within, urging them deeper into the wood.  

"Aye, they appear to know these woods well, but they may know where Rúmil is.  Though the trees here are unusually quiet, I sense no menace in these woods or from them."  

Orophin nodded in agreement, and, after just a moment's hesitation, they headed toward the laughter.  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Rúmil, your brothers approach," and with a hand against his cheek, Danelhir woke the sleeping elf.  "They have come for you."

"My brothers?"  Rúmil attempted shakily to rise, but Danelhir stopped him, pushing him back down gently.  

"Nay, they will come to you, mellon nín.  Loarel and Aerien bring them as we speak.  You must rest and gather your strength, for you have a long journey ahead."  

Danelhir rose and began to move around the little talan, gathering the remnants Rúmil's clothing and the salves and herbs for his injuries, bundling them all together tightly.  

He had just set the bundle aside when Eli raced into the talan to collapse at Rúmil's side.  He rested against the blanket lying across the elf's chest, burying his head in the folds.  

"Rúmil, stay with us.  You would be happy here."  

Danelhir made to approach but stopped when Rúmil raised a hand to rest on Eli's head, his long fingers playing lightly in Eli's auburn curls.  

"Do not worry, Eli.  You will like my brothers and you and the others can come with us to Caras Galadhon.  I will care for you as you did for me.  You will meet the Lord and Lady, and I will show you the beauty of the Wood."  

Danelhir dropped down beside Eli, and lifting him away from Rúmil, cradled him in his arms.  

"Eli, Rúmil must go.  He needs his family if he is to heal."  

Eli shifted and grasped Danelhir tightly around the waist, sniffling, and quietly said, "We can be his family."  

Clasping his brother tightly with one arm, Danelhir leaned forward and laid his hand on Rúmil's forehead.  

"You must rest now, Rúmil, for just a little while, but you will not be alone; you will be safe."  

"Nay, I want…," his voice fading, Rúmil's eyes reluctantly slid shut.  

Danelhir pulled the blanket back over Rúmil's chest, his hand resting briefly upon his heart.  

"Speak to your brothers of your fears, mellon nín, they will help you."  

Then turning his attention back to Eli, he said, "We must go.  His brothers draw near."  

The little adan looked back to Rúmil.  Releasing his grasp on his brother, Eli crawled over to the sleeping elf and scooped up his hand, clasping it tightly to his chest, and in an anguished voice, said, "But they are going to hurt him, Dani."  

"It cannot be helped, Eli.  They have to carry Rúmil to get him home.  They will be gentle, for they love him dearly.  Rúmil is strong, and he will sleep until they reach the Wood."  Then, moving to sit beside his brother, Danelhir said, "Eli, he will fade if he stays here with us."  

"Will they know how to take care of him?"  

"They have very good healers there, Elven healers."  Danelhir cocked his head to the side, listening intently to the brothers' approach.  "Eli, come away, saes."  

"We could go with him, take care of him, just until he is better.  No one need know.  Please, Dani."  

Danelhir cupped Eli's tiny face in his hands, brushing away the tears dripping down the small cheeks in little rivulets with his thumbs, and pressing his forehead to that of his brother, he said, "His world is not for us, penneth.  We were made for other things."  

Danelhir felt his own eyes sting with tears as his brother nodded weakly and then gently tucked the hand he had been holding so tightly back under the blanket.  Sensing the approaching elves coming up through the branches of the tree, Danelhir held Eli's hands in his and stood, pulling the little boy up with him.  

"Come, we will see him again, I promise, but we must go, now.  They are almost upon us."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The sound of soft voices in the branches above guided the warriors, and quickening their pace through the tree, they stepped lightly into the small, dilapidated talan.  Haldir gasped loudly as his eyes focused on the blanketed form lying on the floor.  

"Rúmil!"  

Haldir and Orophin ran over to their brother, dropping to their knees on either side of the pallet in which he lay.  His eyes were closed, but his breathing was deep and steady.  

"Muindor?"  

Haldir brushed a hand across his brother's forehead, finding him slightly warm to the touch.  Lifting the blanket, the guardians' faces darkened as they took in the mottled bruises, cuts, and scrapes of varying size and color that covered his body.  

Haldir carefully checked the bandages wrapped tightly around Rúmil's abdomen and thigh, easily identifying the wounds caused by his fall into the pit.  Moving upward, he lifted the loose bandage covering the wound on his shoulder.  

Orophin growled angrily, his fingers lightly brushing across the raw bruises on Rúmil's wrists.  A quick intake of breath caused him to look up and follow Haldir's troubled gaze, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly against the sight of the vile wound on Rúmil's shoulder.  Taking a deep breath, he said, "Haldir, roll him toward me."  

With Orophin supporting his head, Haldir rolled his brother carefully onto his side, his eyes growing black with rage as they drifted over the small, finger-shaped bruises and bite marks covering Rúmil's hips, buttocks, and thighs.  Haldir met his brother's questioning gaze sorrowfully.  

Moving Rúmil onto his back once again, Haldir brought the heels of his hands up to his eyes, rubbing vigorously, as if trying to eradicate the images that were forever burned into his mind.  

Numbly, Orophin watched his little brother sleep; he looked so peaceful, so untroubled.  His fingers drifted over the bruises that marred the pale skin of his face, and then leaning over, he placed a soft kiss on Rúmil's brow.  

"I am so sorry, muindor; you should not have suffered this."    

Shaking his head, Orophin pushed away his feelings of guilt and anger; they would not help Rúmil now.  He gently fingered one of the tiny braids in Rúmil's hair, and looking back to Haldir, he asked, "Who do you think has been caring for him?  You do not suppose the children did so for him?"  

"I do not know what to think," said Haldir wearily.  Opening his eyes, he picked up the neat bundle lying nearby, retrieving Rúmil's clothing, but upon seeing their torn and tattered state, he tossed them away angrily.  He then picked up one of the jars of salve, sniffing its contents.  

"Perhaps we should wait for their return?"  

Haldir shook his head, and said, "He may be fading.  We need to get him home," and removing his cloak, he added it to the blanket covering Rúmil.  Orophin also removed his cloak, and laying it on the floor next to the pallet, helped Haldir shift Rúmil onto it, wrapping him up securely.  

"What about the children?"  

"We cannot worry about that now.  Their elders must be about somewhere.  We need to get him to the healers."  

Haldir handed the unguents and herbs that were left with Rúmil's clothing to Orophin, and said, "We will need these."  

Haldir lifted his brother gently, resisting the urge to press him close, and spoke softly into his ear when Rúmil moaned in pain at the movement.  

"Peace, Rúmil.  'Tis I, Haldir, and Orophin is with me.  We are taking you home."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

~* To Be Continued *~

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	20. Waking

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 20 - Waking

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

There was the awareness of hands moving over his body.  He sensed, somehow, that neither lust nor the desire to cause pain drove them, but their touch was still unwanted.      

_"We saw only children."  _

The pain was returning as the darkness retreated, forcing its way into his dreams, bringing him closer to waking.  

_"I do not believe that children could have done so for him."  _

And there were familiar voices, floating loosely on the edge of his recognition, just beyond his grasp, but they were too loud and too many.  They were disturbing his peace.    

_"It may not be as we feared, my Lord, but I will have to speak with him before I can be certain."  _

All he could hear were small bits and pieces of what was being said, his mind refusing to concentrate wholly, to wake completely.  

_"His injuries do not heal as they should and infection yet lingers.  He may be long in recovering."  _

That was the Master Elendir… and his Lord.  He was home.  Home, it was what he had prayed for, to be back in the Wood, to be with his family.  It was what he wanted, was it not?  

_'Rúmil, you must wake.  Your body grows weaker by the hour.'  _

Not yet… not yet, he needed more time.  He could not face them.  He had been careless… weak.  He had failed them.  

_"Why he continues to sleep, I do not know.  'Tis my hope that the Lady…"  _

_'If not now, when?  You seek escape from your memories, from your thoughts, but this is not the way, penneth.'_

He wanted to forget, forget it all.  He just wanted the peaceful bliss of a quiet, dreamless sleep.  

_'Rúmil, 'tis time for you to awake.  Your brothers worry so, and Celeborn and I long to see your smile.'  _

I cannot.  Saes… saes, do not ask it of me, Lady; I am not ready.  He was cold and tired, too tired.  

_'You are ready, penneth.  You need not carry this burden alone.  Let us help you.  Saes.'_

Unable to ignore his Lady's plea, Rúmil's eyes slowly opened, straining against the soft light of the healing talan.  

"Welcome back," Galadriel said with a soft sigh.  "How do you fare, dearest Rúmil?"  

She was stroking his hair lightly, and Rúmil tried to get his blurry vision to focus on his Lady and her tranquil features.  He reached out with a tentative hand, touching her face softly, wanting to make sure that she was real.  He had not really expected to see her again, and he felt a too brief spark of joy when she smiled at him.  

Galadriel winced slightly at the coolness of his touch but quickly covered his hand with hers, pressing it into her cheek, and asked, "The healers are just outside speaking to Lord Celeborn and your brothers.  Shall I call them in?"  

Rúmil shook his head.  "I am not sure that I can face them, Lady.  I…"  His voice broke, rough from long disuse.  

Galadriel slid the hand against her cheek down into her lap, grasping it tightly, trying to warm his skin.  

"You are dear to us, Rúmil.  We will help you to overcome this."  

"Rúmil!" exclaimed a greatly relieved Haldir, as he and Orophin dashed into the room.  "We were beginning to fear that you would never wake."  

Rúmil flinched at their sudden appearance and glanced away quickly, unable to meet their gaze.  Confused by Rúmil's shyness, Orophin reached over and cupping his brother's chin in his hand, turned his face back to theirs.  

"Why do you turn away?" he asked softly.  

Celeborn entered quietly behind the guardians, and crossing the room to stand at the end of cot, he said, "Your brothers refused to leave your side, Rúmil, much to the consternation of the healers."  

As Rúmil brought his gaze up to those clustered around him, his heart began to pound, and he was suddenly gripped by the need to escape, to get away.  Trying not to alarm Haldir and Orophin, Galadriel silently soothed him, tightening her hold on his hand when he attempted to yank it free.  

_'Rúmil, 'tis only your brothers and Lord Celeborn.__  There is nothing to fear.'  _

"Rúmil?"  Orophin's anxious voice pulled him back.  Rúmil shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny, willing his heart to slow and his body to relax, and weakly replied, "I…  'tis good to be home." 

Sighing quietly, the Lady slipped Rúmil's hand into Haldir's and then rose and glided across the room, meeting the eyes of her Lord.  She had felt Rúmil's terror.  

_'He is greatly troubled, __ind__ nín.  We will have to watch him closely.'  _

Celeborn nodded in reply.  Relief had flooded through him when he, as well as Haldir and Orophin, had heard Rúmil voice, but that relief was tempered upon seeing the guardian's downcast gaze.  

"We will leave you now," said Celeborn, and locking his gaze with that of the injured guardian, he smiled warmly, and said, "Rúmil, your return was paramount to all of us.  'Tis a relief and a blessing to have you back."  Then looking to Haldir, he said, "Haldir, a moment please."  Nodding, Haldir reluctantly released his brother's hand to join the Lord and Lady on the balcony.  

Grasping the guardian's shoulder, Celeborn said, "If you require anything, anything at all, notify us immediately."  

"Thank you, my Lord," and as Haldir turned to thank the Lady, she said, "Haldir, limit Rúmil's visitors to no more than one, two at the most, and they should sit beside him, not hover over him.  I sense that he feels… overwhelmed."  Seeing the look of concern of Haldir's face, she said, "Tell Rúmil for us that we will visit with him after he has rested."  

"Thank you, my Lady."  

Haldir had just returned to his brother's side when much to his growing ire, the Master Healer placed his hand on his shoulder, drawing him away once more.  

"May I have a few moments with your brother, Captain?  I need to check his injuries and there are some questions that I need to ask about what occurred during his time away from us," and seeing Haldir's hesitance, he said, "It must be done, and I will not be long."  

Grudgingly, Haldir nodded in agreement.  Gesturing to Orophin, he leaned down and brushing his hand over Rúmil's cheek, said, "Master Elendir needs to tend to you now.  Orophin and I will be right outside if you need us."  

With Rúmil's quiet nod, the brothers stepped away, allowing the healer to move into the vacated seat next to the bed.  Master Elendir watched Rúmil in silence, observing his furtive glances around the room as the guardian tried to avoid looking in his direction.  After a few minutes, he asked, "Rúmil, can you tell me what is causing you the most pain?"  

Not missed by the healer but unaware of the gesture himself, Rúmil placed his hand over his heart, clutching at the fabric of the blanket.  

"My side troubles me…," and Rúmil's hand drifted to cover his shoulder, now tightly bandaged against his chest to prevent movement, "…and my shoulder."  

Rúmil grew silent once again, staring blankly at the wall.  It was just too much.  He knew they were growing frustrated with him, but his memories were still cloudy and broken, and what he could remember…  Rúmil squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered.  

"Rúmil, I have a question to ask and it may cause you some discomfort."  

However, before the healer had a chance to utter another word, something occurred to Rúmil, and glancing around the room again, he asked, "Where are the children?"  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Looking into the brothers' anxious faces, Master Elendir stepped out of the room shaking his head.  

"He will not speak of it to me.  Perhaps I could ask one of you to attempt to get him to say what needs to be said.  His avoidance of the subject does not bode well."  

Taking a deep breath, Haldir nodded to the healer then moved to stand quietly in the doorway.  Orophin hovered just on the other side and Haldir reached out and squeezed his hand before he entered.  He approached the bed slowly, putting himself between Rúmil and the wall that suddenly seemed to fascinate him so.  

"Muindor, will you speak with me?"  

His question met with silence, Haldir dropped to his knees, moving into Rúmil's eye line, forcing his brother to look at him.  He grasped Rúmil's hand in his and braced himself to ask the question.  Looking into the troubled eyes of his brother, he asked, "The healers need to know, Rúmil… I need to know.  Did they… were you…?"  

Rúmil met his brother's gaze reluctantly, trying to force his mouth to speak the words that his brother needed to hear.  He knew this was hard for Haldir, knew that his silence was hurting him, hurting Orophin, and he did not wish to cause his brothers to suffer because of his shame.  

Haldir's heart squeezed painfully inside his chest when Rúmil's eyes began to shimmer with unshed tears and the hand in his began to shake.  He began to fear the worst, and in a choked voice, he said, "Nay, do not answer.  This… this can wait.  I will tell…"  

"Haldir, wait," Rúmil whispered, and he tried desperately to swallow the lump that was swelling in his throat, stealing his voice.  Why was this so difficult for him to say?  

"'Twas twice attempted… and I was twice reprieved."  

Closing his eyes, Haldir let out a long, profound sigh, and lifting his brother's hand to his cheek, he said, "That is well then… that is well."  

Rúmil wished with all his heart that he felt as relieved as Haldir.  

How will you react, Haldir, when you learn of my weakness?  What will Orophin say when he learns that I gave in, that I had prayed for release from my torment?  What will you say to me when you learn that I had desired death?  

Frantic for something to quell his dark thoughts, he asked, "Haldir, where are the children?  Master Elendir seemed to know them not, and I would very much like see them."  

Haldir's dark brows rose in surprise at the sound of the longing in his brother's voice.  "They fled into the forest as we approached, and we could not tarry; we wanted to get you home."  

"Oh," was all Rúmil could say.  He suddenly ached to return to that little talan in the woods, to see the children and their curious faces and bright eyes.  He never had to face their questions.  Now, he was being asked to speak of it, to remember it, and that made it all too real.  

"I am tired," he said wearily.  

"Sleep then, we will watch over you."  As Haldir made to rise, Rúmil tightened his grip on the hand in his.  Leaning over, he cupped Rúmil's cheek in his other hand, and said, "Worry not, muindor, I will return in but a moment with Orophin; he waits just outside."  

Rúmil nodded, unwillingly releasing his hold, and continued to follow Haldir with his eyes as he exited the room, waiting anxiously for his return.  He was not ready for their questions, but he still needed them near.  

Haldir slid down the wall to sit next to Orophin and pulled his brother close against him.  

"'Tis well, Orophin.  The deed was not done."  

Orophin collapsed against his brother, sobbing quietly, all the tension, all the fear, released in a sudden torrent.  Haldir rocked him gently, and after his brother had quieted, he said, "Come, he awaits our return."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

~* To Be Continued *~

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	21. Silence

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 21 – Silence

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The Lady had alerted them.  The March Wardens were returning; one of them grievously injured.  However, upon their arrival, almost everyone, with the exception of the Lord and Lady, took a step back.  The guardians looked wild and fey, their extreme fatigue evident.  Haldir had refused to release Rúmil, insisting on carrying him himself, while Orophin stood closely at his side, all but growling as the healers' approached.  Only with the intervention of Lord Celeborn, did brothers finally surrender their burden.   

It was much more peaceful now, and Master Elendir could not help but smile when he looked in on the warriors.  

Rúmil seemed to be sleeping quietly, no longer suffering from the deep, worrisome slumber that had blanketed him when he had arrived.  Orophin had somehow managed to balance himself on the very edge of the cot, throwing an arm loosely across his brother's waist, while Haldir, still holding Rúmil's hand, was dozing in the chair, his  long legs draped over one arm, and his head tilted at an odd angle over the other.  

He was loath to wake them but had to see to his charge, and he knew that no matter how he worded the request, the brothers would not leave willingly.  Therefore, with that in mind, he decided that a more gentle method of persuasion would be needed to remove the guardians and allow him to work. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Haldir, Orophin." 

Haldir bolted upright in his chair at the sound of the Lady's voice, wincing as the strained muscles in his neck protested at the sudden movement.  

"You will be of no comfort to him if you yourselves drop from exhaustion," and stepping into the room, she smiled softly when Orophin released a startled bark of surprise as he fell from his precarious position next to Rúmil and onto the floor.  

Stifling a groan, Haldir rose stiffly to his feet, and said, "We are well, my Lady."   

Looking at both of them doubtfully, she waited patiently as Orophin pulled himself unsteadily to his feet, and then said, "I am quite certain that you are far from well and have neither eaten nor slept since you left Caras Galadhon.  Even you have limits, my dearest guardians."  

Coming around the end of the cot, Orophin said, "We are fine, Lady, we…"

Galadriel silenced him with a firm gaze, and said, "You will eat, you will sleep, and then you will go refresh yourselves.  I will sit with him in your absence."  Sensing that the youngest of the brothers had also awakened, her gaze shifted to Rúmil.  "And I greatly desire to spend time with you, Rúmil."    

Acquiescent, Haldir leaned over to Rúmil, and said, "We shall return short…," and then catching the delicate cough of disapproval from the Lady, finished, "…in a few hours."  

Giving the glowering Galadhrim a wide berth, the healers entered only after the guardians' departure.  Galadriel sat at Rúmil's side, her eyes cast discretely downward as the healers tended to the injured elf.  When the task was completed, and they were once again alone, she moved onto the bed next to him, taking up his hand.  

Comforted by her serene presence, Rúmil asked, "My Lady, the children, can you tell me of them?  Are they all right?"  

"I have been unable to glimpse them in the Mirror, Rúmil, but Lord Celeborn has sent a patrol to seek them out and bring them to you when they are found."  

"Why does the Mirror not…" he began, but then Rúmil fell silent, and Galadriel felt him stiffen suddenly in her arms.  His breathing quickened and abruptly, Rúmil turned away from her piercing blue gaze.  Gently turning him back to face her, she met his glistening, shame-filled eyes compassionately.  

"Nay, Rúmil, do not turn away.  You need never to turn away from me," and reaching out her hand, she brushed the tears from his cheeks, and said, "The Mirror did not reveal to me what was done to you.  'Tis only you who can speak of what was forced upon you."  

Rúmil calmed somewhat, thanking the Valar silently for that small blessing.  He could not bear it if his Lady had seen what he had been forced to endure at the hands of the feredir.  His voice just a whisper, he said, "I cannot speak of it, not yet."  

"Then I shall say only this and will speak no further on the matter unless you desire it," and tapping his nose lightly with a long, slender finger, she said, "You wish to believe that 'tis only your body that feels pain.  That is not so, and you will do yourself great harm if you continue on this way," and then gazing deeply into his eyes, she whispered into his mind.  

_'If you do not set your fears free, they will forever haunt you.'  _

Rúmil nodded weakly against her breast but remained silent.  Sighing quietly, Galadriel tucked his head under her chin, and rocking him gently, said, "'Tis all right, Rúmil, you will find your voice," then laughing softly, she said, "I have not done such for you since you were but a sprite."  

And with a voice so filled with heartache that it made her breath catch, he said, "Those days were filled with much joy."  

Tipping his chin up and meeting his gaze, she said, "Oh, Rúmil, there are many joyful times yet to be had," and then sensing his weariness, she placed a soft kiss on his temple, and said, "You are tired.  Sleep for a little while, dear Rúmil.  I will guard your dreams, you will not be troubled."  

Rúmil pressed into the comfort of her embrace, and after a few moments of thoughtful quiet, he asked, "They will not be found, will they, Lady?"  

"I do not believe so, penneth."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Haldir and Orophin returned precisely three hours later.  Orophin fidgeted impatiently while Haldir helped Galadriel to rise and then slid in behind Rúmil, taking the Lady's place.  Seeing that Rúmil was still sleeping, Haldir turned to her, and whispered, "Thank you, my Lady, for insisting that we take a respite."  

"I will accept your thanks, Haldir, but only if you promise not force poor Master Elendir to seek me out again."  Galadriel laughed lightly when Haldir's eyes narrowed as she confirmed his suspicions.  

"Aiya, Haldir, there are few who are willing to incur your wrath, especially when it comes to your brothers.  Do not begrudge him his healthy sense of self-preservation," then looping her arm in his, she said, "Come, walk with me, Orophin has him now," and with a nod from Orophin, Haldir accompanied his Lady home.  

"Tell me, truthfully, Haldir, how fare you and Orophin?"  

With a sigh, he said, "We are worried, my Lady.  Rúmil was so still when we found him and stirred not but to breath as we traveled.  Nothing we did would revive him, and now that he is awake, he seems just as quiet and withdrawn."  

"Haldir, in his heart, up until the day he was taken, he was a warrior, strong and invincible, and death was something that came only to the enemies of the Golden Wood.  That surety in himself has been stripped away most brutally, and he feels vulnerable and weak -- he feels that he has failed you."  At Haldir's gasp of protest, she said, "We know 'tis not so, but telling him such will not cause him to believe."  

She stopped then and turned to face her much-loved Captain, and said, "However, you did not answer my question, Haldir.  How do *you* fare?"

"I am well, Lady," and as she turned to continue their walk, Haldir could have sworn that he actually saw the Lady of Light roll her eyes.    

"Haldir, you are as stubborn as your brother."  

Reaching the steps of the Royal Talan, Haldir made to continue, but she stopped him, and said, "There is another reason for my requesting your escort, Haldir."  

Brows drawing together, Haldir gave her a questioning look, and asked, "How may I serve you, Lady?"  

"There is another amongst us in great pain."     

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Rúmil, you have a visitor."  

Seeing his brother hesitate, Haldir stepped aside, beckoning to someone to step forward.  

"Anendel," Rúmil whispered breathlessly.  

The guardian lingered in the doorway, one foot in, one foot out.  He looked as if he was about to flee, but when Rúmil held out a hand to him, Anendel immediately went to his side, and remembering Haldir's words of warning, fell to his knees next the cot so as not to cause Rúmil any distress.   

Haldir then gestured to Orophin and nodding in understanding, Orophin said, "Come here, gwador, and take my place.  I wish to stretch my legs a bit."  

Scrambling back up to his feet, Anendel gently shifted positions with Orophin, and it was with some relief that Haldir noted the brief smile that graced his brother's face as he settled back against Anendel.  

"Orophin and I need to speak with Master Elendir and may be awhile.  Anendel, you will stay with him?"  

At Anendel's nod, Haldir and Orophin departed, leaving the pair alone.  

"Rúmil, I…"  

Squeezing Anendel's hand, Rúmil said, "Before you say anything, I wish to ask a favor of you, gwador."

"Anything."  

"I wish… I wish for there to be no guilt between us.  I wish for you to be without burdens.  Saes, do not blame yourself, Anendel, for I do not."  

Anendel tipped his head forward, pressing his forehead to Rúmil's shoulder, and in a hoarse whisper, he said, "'Twas I who acted recklessly, 'twas I who sprung the trap.  You would not be here if not for me."  

"Nay, Anendel, as I told you before, 'twas the fault of those…," Rúmil's voice broke, and feeling him shudder, Anendel pulled him closer, "…those who set the wire, and you suffered no small amount of hurt yourself."  

When Anendel did not reply, Rúmil shifted so that he could better see his friend's face, and said, "Saes, I am begging you, do not do this to yourself.  It will lighten my heart immensely for you to know this, 'twas not your fault."  

Anendel could see the despair in his friend's gaze and with a quiet sob, nodded in agreement; he would cause Rúmil no further pain if he could help it.  

"Do not cry, gwador," said Rúmil with tears in his own eyes, "for we are together.  Everything is as it should be."  

After a few moments of calming silence, Rúmil said, "Haldir and Orophin tell me the whole of the Golden Wood was roused by your effort to reach the city… and that you almost died."  

With a last sniff, Anendel brushed his arm across his face, and then said, "Ah, 'twas but a scratch, meldir, your brothers exaggerate."  

Rúmil turned the hand in his palm up, letting his fingers drift over the calloused skin and up one long finger, inspecting it closely.  

"And how fares the finger?"  

Grinning slightly, Anendel said, "There was some worry that I may never be able to draw a bow again, but the healers have declared it sound once more."    

With a small laugh, Rúmil said, "That is well, meldir," then pulling Anendel's hand up to his chest, he said, "'Tis truly a relief to have you with me again."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Master Elendir."  

Working on an herbal tea for Rúmil, and hopefully, his brothers, the healer had not heard the Galadhrim approach and turning, gave a startled yelp at finding them standing so close.  

Smiling enigmatically, Haldir took another step toward the healer, looking down at him with an unreadable expression.  

"Orophin and I wanted to thank you for everything that you have done for Rúmil."  

Still clutching a small, marble pestle in his hand, the healer lifted it up to his chest, and giving the imposing Galadhrim a nod, said, "'Tis… not necessary to thank me, I do it gladly."  

Wanting to put just a little bit more distance between himself and the guardian, the healer took a step back but stopped when a firm body pressed up against his.  Two strong hands came up to rest gently on his shoulders, and he whipped his head around to see Orophin smiling brightly down at him from behind.  

"Still, Master Elendir, we are most grateful, and Haldir and I also wanted to know if there was anything that we could do to assist you.  We realize that we have been most…," and Orophin paused, seemingly searching for the proper word, "…exasperating up to this point."  

Shaking his head vigorously, the healer said, "Nay, Captain, March Warden, your dedication to Rúmil is quite moving.  He is most fortunate indeed to have brothers such as you to watch over him."  

Picking up the bowl sitting on the table, Haldir sniffed its contents, and then arching an eyebrow, said, "You have mixed quite a large quantity of this medicinal.  Are you certain that this is for Rúmil *only*?" 

Mouth gaping slightly, the healer said, "Most assuredly, Captain, it will ease his pain and help him to rest more comfortably."  

"Hmm…," and looking the healer suspiciously, Haldir said, "…and you are quite sure that there is naught we can do for you."  

"Nay, I have everything well in hand."  

With a last squeeze to the healer's shoulders, Orophin backed away, and said, "Very well then, we shall leave you to your work," and both turned and moved away.  

The healer collapsed against his workbench, trying to catch his breath just as Haldir turned back to say one last thing.  

"Master Elendir, saes, do remember, if you require assistance, one of us is always *close* at hand."  

"Aye, I will remember, thank you, Captain, March Warden."  

Turning back to join his brother, the healer watched warily as the guardians headed toward Rúmil's room.

"You enjoyed that too much, Haldir."  

"I am sure I do not know what you are speaking of."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

~* To Be Continued *~

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	22. What Dreams May Come

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 22 - What Dreams May Come

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Haldir addressed his sedate brother softly.  

"Master Elendir tells me that you may return home for the remainder of your convalescence."  

Rúmil just nodded silently as he accepted Orophin's assistance in sitting.  

"Is that your wish?  Do you want to return home?  Orophin and I will not be so quick to pamper and fawn over you as some have."  

Haldir's attempt to bait his brother went unchallenged, and he frowned, watching as Rúmil allowed Orophin to dress him as if he was an elfling's doll.  

"That will be fine," Rúmil said quietly, and he tugged on the cloak that Orophin offered him.  Since his return, Rúmil had been quick to chill as his body labored to heal itself.  

Haldir stepped up beside Rúmil as he stood shakily on his feet, supporting him on the left while Orophin supported him on the right.  Their progress was slow; Rúmil moved stiffly and had to stop from time to time to rest.  

"Perhaps 'tis too soon?"  Orophin said anxiously, as they noticed Rúmil shiver violently and clutch his cloak more tightly around his shoulders.  

Rúmil shook his head, and whispered, "Nay, I am all right.  It will be good to be home.  Saes, let us continue."  

Finally reaching their talan, Rúmil looked up at the daunting height with trepidation.  

"I do not think…"  

Haldir stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, and softly said, "'Tis all right, Rúmil, I will help you."  

Haldir lifted Rúmil carefully, cradling him against his chest.  He expected his brother to grumble, to complain about being carried, but it was just the opposite; Rúmil seemed to melt lifeless against him.  Briefly exchanging a look of disquiet with his brother, the March Warden began his assent with Orophin trailing behind, ready to steady them if necessary.  

Once they had reached the balcony of the talan, Haldir did not put his brother down but continued to carry Rúmil inside, settling him onto his bed where Orophin had moved it into the main living area, closer to the fire.

Haldir and Orophin leaned over him, tending to his still healing body, while attempting to draw their taciturn brother into the conversation.  Rúmil lay quietly, shifting this way and that as required.  He listened half-heartedly, giving the occasional nod or smile.  Suddenly feeling chill, he said, "I am cold."  

Haldir moved quickly to fetch another blanket while Orophin threw more wood on the fire, tugging the bed as close as he dare to the flames.  Scooting forward on his knees, Orophin laid his head down on Rúmil's pillow and reached out to tuck some errant strands of hair back behind Rúmil's ear.  

"Would you like something to eat?  The healers gave us strict instructions to make you eat.  'Twas the only way they would allow us bring you home."  

Rúmil pressed his hand against the growing knot in his stomach, which seemed to tighten even more at the mention of food, especially the wretched concoction disguised as soup that the healers insisted that he eat.  Gazing back at his brother, he said, "Not right now.  I am tired from the walk.  Perhaps when I wake?"  

A quick flash of frustration crossed Orophin's face, and with a sigh, he said, "All right, but when you wake, you must eat."  

"I will."  

Feeling slightly warmer, Rúmil stared into the dancing flames of the fire.  With long fingers, he reached over and traced the scar that ran across his arm, the scar from the wound that started it all.  Master Elendir said that it would fade in time.  However, the outward scar actually caused him little pain now; it was the scars within that continued to torment him.  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

An odd silence pulled Haldir from a restless reverie, and he lay still, listening intently, trying to focus on what was missing from the familiar nighttime chorus.  He could easily hear the creatures that favored the twilight, chattering and greeting one another happily; he could hear the breeze whispering its secrets to the trees and the returning gossip of the leaves; what he could not hear was…  Haldir he sat up abruptly and lunged toward the bed in which Rúmil slept.  

"Rúmil?"  

Haldir bent over him, shaking his shoulders vigorously. 

"Rúmil!"  

Startled awake by Haldir's fearful shout, Orophin joined his brother at Rúmil's side.  

"What is wrong?"  

"He is not breathing," Haldir said tightly, and he shook Rúmil more forcefully, desperately trying to rouse him.   

Their brother's face was pinched with pain, his body rigid, and his hands clawed at the sheets, opening and closing frantically as if trying to pull him free from some unseen attacker.  

When his brother's eyes snapped open, Haldir breathed a sigh of relief but then cried out in alarm as Rúmil jerked violently away from his touch, tumbling to the floor with an anguished grunt.  He scrambled quickly into the corner, gasping for breath and holding his arm tightly against his chest.  

Haldir moved to go to him, but Orophin grabbed him, holding him back.  

"Wait."  

"But, he…"  

"He still dreams, Haldir.  We are but phantoms to him."  

Rúmil pressed himself deeper into the corner, attempting to appear as small as possible, while his unfocused eyes darted about the room.  After a few minutes, it seemed that awareness began to return as his gaze settled on his brothers.  They stayed like that until Rúmil's breathing evened out, and his body began to relax.  

"Rúmil, are you all right?"  

Eyes blinking slowly, Rúmil tipped his head back into the corner, staring intently at his brothers.  

"I do not know his name."  

"Of whom do you speak, Rúmil?  Whose name do you not know?"  

"The one who stopped him… he had kind eyes."      

Haldir was thoughtful for a moment, trying to pull from his memory the lies told to him by the feredir, and then it suddenly occurred him.  The adan they found in the pit, he had helped Rúmil and died most cruelly for it.  

"Daris, I believe his name was Daris."  

"Daris…," whispered Rúmil softly, "'tis a nice name, is it not?"  

Both brothers nodded slowly, watching as Rúmil drifted back into reverie.  Haldir rose and approached him cautiously then leaned over and picked him up, cradling Rúmil's limp body against his own.  Orophin quickly replaced the sweat-soaked sheets, and then trying to soothe his brother's restless countenance, let his fingers drift through his long, silvery-blonde hair as they settled him back into bed.  

"He is fading."  

"I know."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Haldir studied the roster for the fifth time that morning, but he still could not make himself concentrate on the neatly written script etched on the parchment, his thoughts drifting constantly to his brother.  

He was the Captain of the Guard.  He had worked hard for this, but he was not sure if it was what he desired anymore.  

When he first became Captain, his only uncertainty had been his brothers.  He knew he had to be impartial, instinctively knew that he could not use his position to protect them; they would not allow it.  He also knew that he could not prove his impartiality by putting them in harm's way; he would not allow it.  

It had become easier with time but now that uncertainty had returned, ten-fold.  Who would be next?  Whose life would he affect with his decisions, whose family might he destroy?  

He sighed loudly, gazing blankly at the parchment before him.  However, even distracted, he easily heard the almost silent footfalls of someone approaching, waiting to be acknowledged.  Haldir stood immediately and turned, bowing his head respectfully.  

"My Lord."  

Having heard his Captain's sigh, Celeborn walked across the room and picked up the cause of his March Warden's disquiet.  

"How goes it with the roster?"  

Haldir hesitated, glancing to the roster, trying to decide if he should disclose his unease to his Lord, but Celeborn knew what troubled his March Warden; he had anticipated it.  Not waiting for Haldir to reply, Celeborn returned the roster to the desk.  

"I have always been greatly troubled when the time comes for choosing a Captain from amongst the guard.  I know you all so well, and 'tis difficult to choose amongst those you care about to send into possibly perilous situations…," pausing to look at Haldir, he continued, "but then I remember that all have been trained by great warriors or are great warriors themselves.  I have the utmost confidence in all of you."  

Haldir met his Lord gaze evenly, and said, "I am proud of my brothers and their skill and would choose no others to stand beside me in times of trial, but by my decision, Rúmil has come to be injured and could have been killed."  

"Life is unpredictable at best, Haldir.  Even my Lady with her Mirror cannot foresee all.  'Tis the way of things, even for the Eldar."  

Haldir nodded his head and meeting Celeborn's wise gaze, conveyed his thanks.  

Reaching out and taking Haldir gently by the arm, Celeborn asked, "Has Anendel been to visit with Rúmil yet?"  Celeborn began walking back toward the city, leading Haldir with him as he went.  

"Aye, he and Rúmil spoke at length, and Rúmil was finally able to put him at ease."  

"That is good.  I was greatly concerned for him, as I am still for Rúmil.  It will be good to see Anendel at peace once again."  

Haldir followed silently, deep in thought, and then said, "I had hoped that speaking with Anendel would do Rúmil some good as well.  He attempts to hide it, but there is a shadow lingering over him.  He seems almost… fragile, my Lord.  I do not know what to do.  I wish I could simply command him back to his old self."  

Celeborn chuckled lightly, and said, "If only 'twas that easy.  I fear that Rúmil may never return to his old self but there is always hope, for I sorely miss that part of him.  Though, I remember a time when you would have gladly throttled the mischief right out of him."  

Smiling, Haldir said, "Aye, I think I may have taken that troublesome side of his nature for granted.  I would give anything to see it return again."  

Stopping just below the talan that the guardian shared with his brothers, Celeborn grasped Haldir's shoulder, and said, "Go and see to your brother.  The roster can wait."  

"Thank you, my Lord, your council has been of great comfort," said Haldir, and then he quickly ascended the steps to their talan.  

"I pray to the Valar that you succeed, Haldir," he said quietly to himself, and turning, the Lord of Lothlòrien continued toward the city. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"My Lady, may I speak with you?"  

"Always, Orophin, you need not ask."  Galadriel motioned Orophin through the garden to sit beside her on a padded bench.  

"Tell me, how fares Rúmil?"  

"I fear for him greatly.  He barely eats…"  Orophin's voice faltered and Galadriel grasped his hand in hers firmly, encouraging him to continue.  

"He is plagued with foul dreams, my Lady.  He grows weak from lack of sleep.  Yet, despite the dreams, he still seeks sleep unending."  

Galadriel closed her eyes briefly, considering Orophin's words, trying to decide how much to reveal.  She knew what was troubling the young elf and had hoped that he would choose to unburden his heart rather then keep his fears locked within.  

"Orophin, Rúmil's trial went beyond bodily injury.  His spirit traveled without and was slow to return," and then glancing skyward, she said, "and I sense that his return was not wholly of his choosing."  

Orophin paled at this revelation, and trying to control his emotions, asked, "Are you saying he seeks to fade?"  

Galadriel met his gaze warmly, and said, "Nay, I am saying that he seeks to live, but the pain he carries within himself makes it difficult to know how to do so."  

_'It begins, meleth nín.'  _

Galadriel's gaze strayed briefly as Celeborn spoke to her and then to returned to Orophin.  

"Go to them now, Orophin.  Your brothers need your strength."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"This is not you, Rúmil."  Haldir glared down at the half-eaten plate of food in frustration.  Rúmil had grown thin and gaunt; he needed to eat.  

Rúmil slumped on the bed, and wearily said, "I am simply tired, I will finish it later, I promise."  

"The healers…"  

"The healers?  The healers know nothing!"  Rúmil hissed, and a long-absent fire sparked in his eyes, blazing them to life.  

Seeing the flash of light in his brother's eyes, Haldir took a chance and continued to push.  

"Rúmil, 'twould help if you spoke of it, if you shared with us what happened," and just as quickly as the fire within his brother's eyes had kindled, it sputtered and died.  

"You know all that happened, Haldir.  There is nothing left to tell that my body does not speak of.  I see no reason to relive it."  

"Rúmil!"  Haldir was not ready to let it go, not this time.  

"Saes, Haldir, why will you not just let me be?"  Rúmil sagged back onto the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the glow of the fire and his brother's unrelenting gaze.  

"You have slept enough!"  Haldir let out a loud growl, and looking down at his brother's supine form, said, "All right, if that is what I must do, so be it!"  

Rúmil dropped his arm and looked at Haldir in confusion.  What must he do?  

Pacing the floor thoughtfully, Haldir began by saying, "You left Anendel, bleeding to death, up in a tree, on one of the most far-flung of our borders."  He then pivoted to face Rúmil, and said, "You then walked calmly into the Faradrim encampment and let them bind you hand and foot."  

Rúmil sat up slowly, his lips parting as if to speak, and at the look of pain in his brother's eyes, Haldir's insides seemed to twist brutally, but he was determined to make it end.  

"You refused all their concerned offers of food and water."  

"They did not…"  

Holding up a hand, Haldir silenced him, and said, "Nay, muindor, do not interrupt, you had your chance.  Now, 'tis my turn, since I must surmise on my own by what I see."  

Haldir forced himself to turn away from his brother before he uttered the words that could possibly kill them both, and taking a deep breath, he said, "You then lay down for them, offering yourself for their pleasure, and by your own admission, more than once."  

Rúmil was shaking visibly now, his eyes brimming with tears.  

"There was naught I could do.  I was bound… I fought him… I did… I swear it."

Then squeezing his eyes shut tightly, Haldir finished it.  

"And, after all was done, you decided you wanted to leave us, choosing instead to walk the Halls of Mandos, and gladly cast yourself into a filthy hole in the ground to lie amongst dead!"  

Rúmil paled visibly, fighting to keep what little he had eaten in his stomach, at the near truth of Haldir's words.  

"I knew not what he intended… I did not want to leave you…"  

Haldir grasp his brother tightly by the arms, pulling him up off the bed.  

"Is this your desire?  To finish what you started by wasting away?  You are but a shadow of what you once were!"  

"Haldir!"  

Haldir turned to see Orophin standing in the doorway, his eyes wide with concern and anger.  

"'Tis enough, Orophin!"  

Orophin stepped into the room, looking from Haldir to Rúmil.  

"Look at him, Haldir!  He is afraid!"  

Haldir's looked back at Rúmil, and his heart shattered as he met his brother's terrified gaze.  He was trembling, and Haldir immediately loosened his grip, supporting Rúmil as he slid down to his knees onto the floor.  

"'Tis my fault… I took the danger too lightly, I… I drove him to it."  

Haldir shook his head vehemently.  

"You are not responsible for the wicked deeds of others.  If there must be blame in this, then let it be with me.  I sent you there."  

Dropping down next to Haldir, Orophin said, "And it must rest with me also, for I was not there with you.  I did not protect you."  

Rúmil brought his hands up to his ears, trying to block them out.  This was not right… they found him… they brought him home.  

Orophin gently grasped Rúmil's hands, pulling them away.  

"You told Anendel that he held no blame for what happened, why can you not believe that for yourself?  The men responsible, those truly to blame, are dead."  

The brittle walls that had shielded Rúmil for so long finally cracked and turned to dust.  With great dread, so sure that everyone he loved would forever turn away from him, he whispered, "I… I did pray for Mandos to take me… I begged for release from my torment and willingly sought death.  I am sorry.  Saes, saes… forgive me."  

Haldir and Orophin grabbed Rúmil as he began to fall back and pulling him between them, embraced him tightly.  

"There is nothing to forgive, Rúmil, you did nothing wrong.  Just come back to us; we need you."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

~* To Be Continued *~

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	23. Fireflies

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 23 - Fireflies 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Rúmil spent the remainder of the night held tight in his brothers' embrace.  Haldir and Orophin were vigilant, waiting quietly for Rúmil to release his inner turmoil.  It started slowly, but when he finally began to speak, it came in a heartbreaking flood of words and images. 

He told them of their attempts to dissuade the Faradrim and the brutality of his captivity, and with tears of shame, he spoke of what Callin had done to him.  They shared his confusion when he said that the means of his rescue from the pit was unknown to him, and their curiosity was piqued as he spoke of the mystery of the children that cared for him.  

Throughout the night, they raged together and cried together, to finally fall into an exhausted but peaceful sleep wrapped tightly in each others' arms.  In the following weeks, the frequency of Rúmil's nightmares lessened, his sleep becoming more restful and healing, and at last, he began to grow stronger.  

Just before dawn, Rúmil climbed up into the mallorn that held their talan and onto a platform secured in the upper most heights of its branches.  He lay on his back, his head resting on one arm, and the leaves of the mallorn parted for him so he would have an unhindered view of the stars above.  

He had missed the stars.  He had been deprived of their beauty by the Faradrim during his captivity, and even when at last free, he was unable to enjoy their radiance while his injuries healed.  Now, his health returning, he would not be denied.  

Rúmil breathed deeply the sweet air of the Golden Wood.  The stars were beginning to grow dim and the skies brighten as Anor slowly crept up to greet to day, warming his skin and lulling him into a contented reverie.  

A soft fluttering against his chest woke him, and looking down, he saw Eli with his ear pressed against his chest, his long lashes sweeping gently across his skin.  

"Eli?  Where have you been?  How did you get here?" and pulling the giggling, little adan against him, he embraced Eli tightly for the first time, and said, "Never mind… I care not."  

"Greetings, Rúmil, we have missed you."  

Rúmil looked past Eli to see Danelhir sitting on the corner of the platform, his legs crossed and leaning back on his hands, grinning at him widely.  

"Why is it, meldir, that whenever we are together, I am looking down upon you?"  

Smiling, Rúmil propped himself up onto his elbows, and said, "Why are you here?"  

"I made a promise to Eli that we would come visit you.  He has been very insistent, not quite trusting your healers to care for you properly."  

Pursing his lips, Eli settled into the crook of Rúmil's arm, and with a bit of a pout, said, "I still think that we should have come with him."  

Laughing softly, Danelhir said, "Nay, Eli.  We would have been a distraction.  Rúmil's brothers needed to concentrate on him solely and did not need his most fierce of protectors savaging their kneecaps whenever they got near."  He then rose to his feet and came to sit next to Rúmil, his dark eyes studying him keenly.  

"How are you feeling, mellon nín," and Rúmil did not object when Danelhir pushed his light shirt the remainder of the way open to check for himself Rúmil's progress.  His hands drifted lightly over the healing scars on his side and chest and then up to his shoulder, smiling to see that the marks there had completely faded.  

"I am still a little stiff and have yet been unable to draw my bow, but Haldir and Orophin have been helping me to regain my strength, and the healers say my shoulder will heal completely with time."  

"That is good," and then Danelhir's hand came to rest over Rúmil's heart, one small finger tapping lightly against his chest, and he asked, "And here, meldir, how about here?"  

With a sigh, Rúmil laid back down and curling his arm tightly around Eli, he said, "'Tis healing also, though, sometimes I still dream of darker times."  

"There are some things that will always be with you," said Danelhir, as he pulled Rúmil's shirt closed once more, "but that pain will also ease with time."  

Rúmil had so many questions he wanted to ask, but he knew the futility of seeking answers, at least for now.  A small smile graced Rúmil's face and he nodded, allowing himself to be simply at ease in their company once more.  Bright eyes flicking to the branches around him, he asked, "Where are the ladies?"  

Flopping down next to Rúmil and his brother to join them in their stargazing, Danelhir said, "Well, Loarel and Aerien have become quite enamored of your brothers; I believe they are stalking them as we speak," and chuckling, he said, "I fear that you may have been cast aside, mellon nín."  

Then Danelhir turned to gaze into the Wood, and said, "And Mirrian has gone to visit the Lady."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She felt their presence the moment they crossed the marches of the Golden Wood.  It was just before dawn, and the birds had not yet begun their morning song.  She dressed and glided lightly down the long stair of the Royal Talan and into the wood, her mind set on a particular spot.  

She strolled around the small garden, admiring the night blooming flowers, and soon sensed someone stepping quietly out of the surrounding wood but did not yet turn to greet her visitor.  

"My Lord and I thank you for caring for Rúmil.  Our hearts were deeply troubled when we learned of his capture," and turning, Galadriel was only mildly surprised as she met the gaze of a dark-haired elfling but half her size.  

"You need not thank us, Lady.  'Twas your Golden Wood that drew us to his need."  

"If I may ask, is it not… frowned upon for you to interfere with the way of such things?  Do you not fear censure?"  

Mirrian gave Galadriel a very childlike shrug, and said, "We have been all but forgotten, those held in greatest esteem no longer seeming to recall us.  'Tis only the trees who sing to us now, and even they begin to fall silent.  

Mirrian crossed the glade to smell the delicate flowers. 

"These flowers are quite beautiful.  I do not believe I have seen their like before."  

Moving to stand beside Mirrian, Galadriel studied the child out of the corner of her eye and then reached out and brushed her fingers softly across one of the fluted petals.  

"They are unique to the Wood and grow only in this small glade.  I am glad that I could share them with you."  

"There are many things unique and beautiful to your Golden Wood."  Mirrian turned back to the Lady, bright amber eyes regarding cool blue, and said, "We would very much like to visit them from time to time, if you will allow it?"  

"Your presence would be welcomed by all, though, I am not sure that my leave is required."  

"You may be right; there are some of us who are more determined than others but not by much.  Even so, we would respect your borders, Lady."  

"Then please, come as often as you wish."  

Drifting back toward the wood, Mirrian said, "I thank you for sharing with me this lovely place -- and for your kindness.  Perhaps we can meet again to enjoy the flowers?"  

Bowing gracefully, Galadriel said, "I would much enjoy being in your company again, healer."  

Smiling gently, Mirrian said, "Nay, 'tis my brother who is the healer, my name is Mirri," and then pausing as if to listen to some far off song, the elfling's smile widened.  

"I must now depart, my Lady, for I fear there is mischief afoot.  Please convey our regard to your Lord," and with a bow, the elfling faded back into the Wood.  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Haldir stood with his arms crossed over his chest, glowering at the mallorn in front of him.  

"Haldir, what are you doing?  Standing here quarrelling with this tree will not aid us in our search for Rúmil."  

"Orophin, this Wood conspires against us," he said, and Haldir gestured sharply toward the tree.  "'Twas only an hour ago that she claimed that Rúmil had descended and sent us on a wild hunt about the city.  Now she tells me that our brother has been aloft the entire time."  

Orophin stepped between the tree and Haldir, his eyes wide in warning, and said, "Muindor, I am sure she was only mistaken," and then lowering his voice, he said, "I would dearly regret waking one morning to find our talan and ourselves in a splintered pile at her base."  

Mumbling to himself about capricious trees, Haldir began his ascent up into the canopy while Orophin turned to whisper softly to the tree, moving his hand over her smooth bark in a placating gesture.  

"Are you coming?!" 

Haldir peeked over the edge of the platform and spotted Rúmil gazing up at the sky.  His dark brows drawn together in concern, he pulled himself up with Orophin close behind.  

"Rúmil?"  

The bright smile that graced their brother's face instantly put them at ease, and sitting up, Rúmil motioned them forward.  

"Come, sit with me.  I was just watching the sunrise."  

Haldir slid in behind his brother, leaning up against a sloping branch and smiled as Rúmil lay back against him, releasing a contented sigh.  Orophin dropped to lay his long body down beside them, resting his head in Rúmil's lap.  

"You should not be up here without a blanket, you are still not fully recovered and risk catching a chill," chided Haldir, as he wrapped his arms around Rúmil.  

"Do not worry, Haldir.  The Lady has chased away the chill this morning; it hardly touches me."  

They sat quietly like that, Rúmil playing with Orophin's hair and watching the waking of the day.  

"Rúmil, you are more yourself, it makes my heart glad," said Haldir.  

Smiling up at both of them, Orophin said, "Mine also.  I have missed this… us together," and again, they fell into a companionable silence.  

"Is it not a wonderful day?" said Rúmil wistfully.    

At Haldir's snort of disgust, Orophin said, "Pay him no heed, muindor.  He has been quite grumpy this beautiful morn, fussing about fickle trees and annoying insects."  

Haldir reached out his foot and gave his brother a soft kick, and said, "They were all about me!  It took all the restraint I possess not to squash the little pests."  

Haldir tensed as Rúmil's shoulders suddenly began to shake, and Orophin sat up in alarm when Rúmil pulled his hands free to cover his face.  

"Rúmil?  What is wrong?"  

Dropping his hands and throwing his head back against Haldir's shoulder, Rúmil began to laugh, and laugh so loud that it drifted through the trees, bringing a smile to the faces of all those below who heard it.    

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Celeborn gently grasped Galadriel around the waist, lifting her gently but quickly to his another side just as Rúmil and Anendel burst through the trees.  Skidding to a halt, they both looked nervously at the Lord and Lady.  

"Pray tell, Rúmil, what is it that has you on the run?" 

Glancing over his shoulder and then back to Celeborn, he said, "We are on our way to the… the hot springs, my Lord.  We were just eager to arrive."  Rúmil's hand shot out, grabbing Anendel's arm as he attempted to slink away.  

Celeborn looked doubtfully over at Galadriel; she had her eyes cast downward, suddenly fascinated with something that lay within the grass.  Turning his attention back to the two tense guardians standing before him, he studied Rúmil's countenance, marveling at his perfect air of innocence, and after a few moments, in which he was sure that Anendel would literally implode, he said, "Very well, continue on then."  

"Thank you, my Lord, my Lady," they said in unison, and then they sprinted from the glade like hares pursued by Hobbits just as Haldir and Orophin approached at a hurried pace.  

"My Lord, my Lady, beautiful morning is it not," they said in passing.  Celeborn and Galadriel gave them a nod and receiving a quick bow in return, the guardians took up the path that Rúmil and Anendel had taken, breaking into a run as soon as they were a respectable distance away from the pair watching them.  

Laughing softly as they disappeared into the Wood, Galadriel asked, "What do you think they have done this time?"  

Laughing along with his Lady, Celeborn said, "I have no idea, but I must find out.  By the look on our guardians' faces, it must have been spectacular."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

~* The End *~

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Coming Soon:  Well of Souls (tentative)

Summary:  A supposed emissary from Mirkwood appears on Lothlòrien's borders demanding an audience with the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood.  A few days later, Rúmil begins to notice a change in the Captain of the Galadhrim.  (Haldir, Rúmil, Orophin, Elrond, Glorfindel, Erestor, Elrond, Lindir).  


End file.
